


Immortal – And Still Not Enough Time

by CrystallicSky, Silvarbelle



Series: Diary Project [2]
Category: Static Shock, Xiaolin Showdown (Cartoon)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-01
Updated: 2011-06-10
Packaged: 2017-10-20 03:58:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 347
Words: 192,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/208505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrystallicSky/pseuds/CrystallicSky, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silvarbelle/pseuds/Silvarbelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A year-long look into the life of an immortal Heylin warlord.</p><p>Author: Silvarbelle/Ch4ckSl4sher</p><p>Acknowledgements: I acknowledge CrystallicSky as being my hero for joining me in this mental escapade by playing the part of Jack Spicer in 'The Spicer Monologues.'</p><p>Disclaimer: Xiaolin Showdown is not mine. It is the property of its creator, Christy Hui, and attendant television networks. I am making no money off of this fanfiction.</p><p>BETTER WHEN READ TOGETHER.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thursday, January 1, 4706 (2009, Western Calendar)

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors Defeated in Battle: Somewhere near the 2 million mark  
Warriors, Cat-Formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: Pffft  
Monks Annoyed: Not nearly enough  
Cupcakes Consumed: 68 (better than last month)  
Dragons Available for Making Lao Máng Lóng: 3 (v. bad)

  
It is nearly the end of the Year of the Rat, _Wu Zi_. Soon we will be entering the Year of the Ox, _Ji Chou_.

Not surprisingly, this is my birth sign. I was born in _Ji Chou_ 1,574 years ago. Naturally, most people tend to think I am a “Dragon” because of my monster form and my Chinese ethnicity.

Unimaginative morons.

Guan is the only one who knows, I think. Wuya, perhaps. Bean…? I doubt he cares. If he does know, he only acquired the knowledge when researching how to sway me to the Heylin side.

Perhaps one other person knows: Spicer. Being my “fanboy,” he might have done the math and figured it out. If he knows, he’s never made mention of it. That surprises me, since he is very much a Rooster, and if ever two signs were compatible, they are the Ox and the Rooster.

Then again, as I recall, not long after we met, he _did_ make some snorting, giggling remark about it being the “Year of the _Cock_.”

Deplorable boy and his deplorable sense of humor.

Now that I think of Spicer, I wonder what the rotten little fink is up to? Certainly, he is not doing anything to improve the status of Evil.

Still, I have meditated and pondered this problem. Spicer desperately desires to be evil. I have no idea _why_ , but he does. I know that he craves power and recognition, but these can be accomplished whether one is good, evil, or somewhere in between.

Likely, the boy doesn’t know _himself_ precisely what he wants. This could be one of the reasons he cannot seem to complete his evil plans once he puts them in motion – he has no idea what the end result should be!

His Rooster nature doesn’t help matters, either. He is deeply, frighteningly intelligent. His mind is capable of performing feats of science that can rival any magic. Should I command him to, he would build a fleet of spacecraft capable of taking humans out into the universe. I’ve considered doing this. If the humans fled this planet, it could be _cleaned_ of the pollution and stink they have created. This world could become the garden of the gods once again.

 _Dragons_ could flourish, which would benefit _me_ a great deal.

Spicer’s brain can invent such things as to make me wide-eyed with wonder, yet he is so uncertain of himself and his place in the world that he cannot help but fail. With every loss, he suffers more self-doubt which in turn sets him up for the next failure. It is a vicious cycle.

Perhaps I can use what I know of Roosters to polish his edges a little. His ability for devotion is almost as stupendous as his brain. His loyalty is not certain, as there are too many people he considers to be worthy of his time and attention. If I make myself his central focus, Spicer and his potential will become mine to command. Fear of disappointing me will have him working hard to keep my favor.

Yet, should I pursue this, I must be careful to keep him balanced on a knife’s edge. I want him to improve, yes, but not so much that he will outstrip his master.

I need to think about this some more.


	2. Friday, January 2, 4706

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors Defeated in Battle: Somewhere near the 2 million mark  
Warriors, Cat-Formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: Still don’t care  
Monks Annoyed: A lot  
Cupcakes Consumed: 74 (still better than last month)  
Dragons Available for Making Lao Máng Lóng: 3 (what does it TAKE to fix this?)

  
Nothing of monumental importance occurred today. The monks are doing whatever it is they do when they’re not antagonizing me.

Wuya is lurking somewhere in my palace, no doubt plotting to overthrow me the instant she spots an opportunity; back-stabbing wench. I honestly do not know why I put up with her. She was an amusing diversion at first and, I will admit, having an available bed partner when I required sex was very pleasant. The witch will do anything if it means she might gain power. Also, the subtle look of hurt and jealousy on Spicer’s face was a delicious little thrill.

Yet, now I am bored with her. Wuya is a talented whore, I will give her that, but her talent is only as good as her perceived chances of getting something of value in return. She knows by now that no matter what tricks her tongue performs or how lusty her response to my touch, I will not knowingly allow her access to her magic again.

Not that it will matter too much should she and Bean form a successful partnership and overthrow me. I will not let that happen, of course, but _if_ it should, she will turn her tricks for that pestilent legume. Perhaps she already has; a thought that both amuses and horrifies me, that I might have shared a whore with my arch-enemy.

It might be time to look into acquiring a new bedmate. I suppose it should be one of the monks. Let me consider this:

Omi: A child, and therefore not arousing in the least.

Tohomiko: Vain, self-centered, whiny, and irritable, topped off by a distinct lack of feminine curves despite having a female body. Not attractive.

Bailey: A possibility, if I can stop him from spouting platitudes. A ball-gag would work.

Pedrosa: Definitely the highest contender. The boy is a natural slut. I’m not certain if he has acknowledged the fact that he eyes Bailey, Spicer, and myself with a lustful gaze on occasion. Either way, seducing him would do much to cause dissention among the monks.

There is also Spicer, but I am still uncertain what I want from him. Do I want him as an apprentice? Do I wish to simply help him enough to stop being a _complete_ embarrassment to evil? Or do I want him for other reasons?

Admittedly, he _is_ a beautiful young man – though, “man” is hardly the correct term. He is… what? 16? 17? Untrained, undisciplined, completely haphazard in almost everything he does… Fucking him as he is now would be like trying to nail jelly to a wall: A frustrating attempt ultimately doomed to failure.

Still… that smooth white skin and those _eyes_ … Hmmm.


	3. Saturday, January 3, 4706

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors Defeated in Battle: Somewhere near the 2 million mark  
Warriors, Cat-Formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 5 as of today  
Monks Annoyed: Yes  
Cupcakes Consumed: 78 (I seem to be controlling this better)  
Dragons Available for Making Lao Máng Lóng: 3 (nearly 2, though, since Dojo had the nerve to say I was looking pudgy and wondered if my armor needed to be let out; the vicious little bitch must be PMSing)

  
Interestingly enough, the Dragon’s Breath went active today and Spicer was not there to make a play for it.

Just as well, as he would have been soundly thrashed by either myself, Wuya, the monks, or Bean _before_ the Showdown ever took place.

That boy and his stubbornness…

Yet, he wasn’t there. The monks, terrible braggart demon beasts that they are, made loud scoffing noises when they noticed the lack of robots to destroy. They guess that he decided to sit this one out since it would be pointless to show up just to lose _anyway_. I confess, that is my suspicion as well.

Still, I was curious enough to use the Eye Spy Orb once Wuya and I returned to the palace. However, Spicer was not in his house. He was in, of all places, a shopping mall somewhere in North America.

To all intents and purposes, he was behaving like a normal modern teenager. He shopped for ridiculous looking clothing (oh, _seriously_ , boy – a _unicorn?_ And you dare to call yourself evil!), admired some form of “jewelry,” ate junk food (his colon is probably going to sue him one of these days), and bought himself comic books. Although, I believe they were the Japanese version; a book called a “manga”. The one he was leafing through when I spied on him depicted two pretty men doing salaciously indecent things to each other.

That reminds me: I really _must_ get on with figuring out what Spicer shall become to me.

In the meantime, the situation with dragons in the world is deplorable. Three is not enough reassurance that their race will continue. I believe I will contract Katnappé to study them. I would prefer they breed naturally, but if she cannot figure out a way to get either Dojo or Chucky Choo to knock up the lone female sometime in the next century, I would prefer she figure out how to make more of them scientifically. I believe the term is called “cloning,” and while I do not agree with it, sometimes sacrifices must be made until something better comes along.


	4. Sunday, January 4, 4706

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors Defeated in Battle: Somewhere near the 2 million mark  
Warriors, Cat-Formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 5  
Monks Annoyed: It’s what I do best  
Cupcakes Consumed: 84 (I _like_ frosting, alright?)  
Dragons Available for Making Lao Máng Lóng: 3 (hopefully more soon)

  
Damn it all, I’m still undecided about Spicer.

In other news: Katnappé is very agreeable to dragon study. She suggested that she start the study with me and filled the air with pheromones. Apparently, despite my reptilian scent and demeanor I am “a _sexy_ bastard.”

Such is my curse: Supremely beautiful, supremely masculine, and absolutely wanted by anything with a pulse.

Oh, gods of evil, that just unearthed the memory of Bean that I’ve spent 1,573 years trying to forget entirely.

To the alcohol vault!


	5. Monday, January 5, 4706

Years Lived: I’m not sure I’m still alive.  
Warriors Defeated in Battle: Do whiskey bottles count?  
Warriors, Cat-Formed: Too godsdamned many and not ONE of them can manage to bring me tea and aspirin!  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: Damn Dashi to fucking HELL for not inventing an anti-hangover SGW!  
Monks Annoyed: They WILL be. Fuck if I have to suffer alone!  
Cupcakes Consumed: I’m going to vomit.  
Dragons Available for Making Lao Máng Lóng: Don’t know, don’t care, fuck them all!

  
I think I know what _one_ of my New Year Resolution’s will be when _Ji Chou_ arrives: No more mass quantities of alcohol, no matter what memories surface.

Oh, gods. So unclean.

Must bathe!

 **Elapsed Time: 5 hours**

I feel vaguely myself again. Certainly, I once again have the prettiest hair in the region.

I checked the Eye Spy Orb just now. Spicer was scribbling in a book and scowling. It appears he is keeping a journal as well. I applaud the action. It might help him figure out what he truly wants.

Still, I shan’t be getting into it. I haven’t any intention of reading whiny emo poems about how life sucks and nobody loves him or understands him. As he is now, Spicer is uninteresting beyond his potential.

Hmmm. I am still dissatisfied. I shall rectify that by annoying the bloody hell out of the monks.

 **Edited to Add:** Ahhhhhhh. I feel _much_ better. I went out just as six different Shen-Gong-Wu went off. None of which was terribly dangerous to me, but still… Monk Annoyance. There is joy in my world again.

Also: Made progress on perhaps seducing Pedrosa into having sex with me. I at least shocked him enough by giving him “The Eye” for him to lose concentration. Go, Me!

Spicer did not show up to any of the Showdowns, however. His behavior is becoming strange enough that even those pseudo-Good monks are becoming concerned.

I will observe him and see what occurs. Perhaps that will help me make up my mind.


	6. Tuesday, January 6, 4706

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors Defeated in Battle: Many; my prowess is great!  
Warriors, Cat-Formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 7; I’ve let the monks keep the unimportant ones  
Monks Annoyed: I am a God amongst Nuisances.  
Cupcakes Consumed: 85 (and they were _delicious_ )  
Dragons Available for Making Lao Máng Lóng: 3 (perhaps if I set up a romantic rendezvous for Dojo and Fifi?)

  
Yet another Shen-Gong-Wu or three went off. Again, Spicer was not there. I checked on him a little while ago. He was with his father on a _beach_ , of all places. His skin was shiny, so I’m assuming he was slathered in extremely powerful sunblock lotion.

At least the fool had the foresight to wear a hat. I shall be spared the whining about his itching, peeling, sunburned scalp. As it is, I’d have sworn blind his hair would burst into flames due to all that goop he has in it.

I found myself excited enough by the prospect of seducing and tormenting Pedrosa that I required Wuya’s presence in bed last night. It was a perfunctory encounter, lacking zest and passion, but it got the job done. Naturally, I sent her away after I was done. She cannot complain, as I make it a point to service her before we finish our encounters.

I definitely need to find someone new. The excitement of anticipating Wuya’s scheming and foiling her plans, as well as fucking her, has waned. It’s the same thing day-in, day-out: She coos sweetly to my face, plots behind my back, and makes use of whatever she can get from me in the meantime.

So very bored.


	7. Wednesday, January 7, 4706

**_BORED.  
_ **


	8. Thursday, January 8, 4706

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors Defeated in Battle: Entire tribes cower at my name!  
Warriors, Cat-Formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: The ones that matter.  
Monks Annoyed: YES, THEY ARE. =D  
Cupcakes Consumed: 102 (Spicer is _so_ bad for my diet!)  
Dragons Available for Making Lao Máng Lóng: 3 (what do dragons consider a romantic setting? I’ll even hire an orchestra to play seductive music!)

  
I very nearly fainted today in shock.

 _Spicer!_ He created some genius little device that changed the composition of his matter. He used what he knew against the monks – and _won!_

Naturally, the little twit arrived with a show of bragging and bravado, but who cares? He _earned_ it this time!

Wuya’s in such a state of shock that she had to go lie down.

As for me, I think Jack took a break from the Shen-Gong-Wu hunt. A small vacation.

He should take them more often if this is the result! He actually _won_ against the monks!

 _ALL FOUR OF THEM!_

I’d almost believe I’ve stumbled into some strange alternate dimension except that I know this shan’t last. That poor boy… he’s probably crowing about how well he did, but the monks will not let it lie. Their pride has been injured and they are far darker than they realize.

They will attack him. They will steal what they believe is their “rightful” property.

I almost want to go to his aid, but I am certain that I am witnessing a metamorphosis in Spicer; he is changing to meet his needs in a dangerous environment.

I don’t know what is going to happen, but for now, I will observe him.


	9. Friday, January 9, 4706

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors Defeated in Battle: As many as there are stars in the sky.  
Warriors, Cat-Formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: More than Spicer has, that’s for sure.  
Monks Annoyed: No, but they WILL be.  
Cupcakes Consumed: 102 (I think I’m suffering sympathy depression for Spicer)  
Dragons Available for Making Lao Máng Lóng: 3 (I hear Rohypnol works wonders)

  
If I had bet my entire accumulated wealth on what would happen, I would… well. Be even more filthy rich than I already am.

I was correct in my prediction: The monks attacked Spicer. Barely hours after he had returned home, victorious, those vicious little beasts literally broke into his house, stole the Eye of Xun, and then beat him unconscious for the sheer hell of it.

I am starting to fear that I, with my honor code, am far more Xiaolin than _they_ are.

They are, clearly, far more Heylin than _Jack_ is.

What is this world coming to that I wish to stay on in it?


	10. Saturday, January 10, 4076

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors Defeated in Battle: Legions  
Warriors, Cat-Formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: Seven, with one on loan.  
Monks Annoyed: Working on it!  
Cupcakes Consumed: 106 (if I can keep it to four a day…)  
Dragons Available for Making Lao Máng Lóng: 3 (MATE already!)

  
Today was _very_ surprising.

Spicer came to visit.

I taunted him, naturally, on his failure. Yet, he explained that was _why_ he had come: That he needed the Serpent’s Tail for experiments.

Spicer gave his usual groveling, adoring speech of how great and wonderful I am (proving he is not entirely foolish), and when I asked why he wanted the Serpent’s Tail… he _told_ me.

He gave me a straight answer to my question.

I was intrigued enough to stop Wuya’s vicious verbal sniping and to let Spicer have the Serpent’s Tail on loan with the proviso that he notify me _immediately_ should _anyone_ (Wuya grimaced at my glare at her) attempt to steal it from him, especially the monks.

Now… now I shall sit back and see what that devious little Rooster mind is coming up with.


	11. Sunday, January 11, 4706

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors Defeated in Battle: None can stand against me!  
Warriors, Cat-Formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 7; one on loan to Spicer  
Monks Annoyed: Through sheer boredom; I’ve been busy lately.  
Cupcakes consumed: 116 (I eat when I’m bored, alright?!)  
Dragons Available for Making Lao Máng Lóng: 3 (perhaps if I forcibly rub them against each other, it will set off literal and proverbial sparks?)

  
There is nothing much of interest going on. The young monks are training, Guan is keeping company with his old monks, Bean is laying low, Wuya is scheming, and Spicer is experimenting.

I peek in on him every so often with the Eye Spy Orb, but he is doing incomprehensible things with machines that I do not understand. All I know is that he is taking a logical, scientific approach to the Shen-Gong-Wu, _finally_. I firmly believe that Spicer is beginning to mature. I was beginning to fear that the dragons would mate and produce offspring by the time he got around to it.

I will wait to see what he comes up with – and who visits him. If the monks get wind that he has the Serpent’s Tail, they will take it from him. They possess the arrogance of believing that because they are Good (to which I scoff and sneer), they have every right to take the Shen-Gong-Wu from Spicer for that reason alone. They do not challenge him, they do not barter with him… they beat him up for his magical toys and then take them.

I know I’ve mentioned it before, but this incongruity unsettles me. The _Good_ Guys are behaving most thuggishly, while the _Bad_ guys are playing by old-fashioned rules. My mind… it boggles.

Wuya bears watching. She – like everyone else – has little respect for Spicer. She will take the Serpent’s Tail from him in an effort to raid the Xiaolin Temple vault; it is only a matter of time.

The only thing left to ponder is if Spicer will honor our deal or not.


	12. Monday, January 12, 4706

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors Defeated in Battle: Vast, vast, vast legions of them.  
Warriors, Cat-Formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 7; one on loan to Spicer  
Monks Annoyed: Yes, but only by each other  
Cupcakes consumed: 124 (bored, bored, BORED)  
Dragons Available for Making Lao Máng Lóng: 3 (perhaps a ritual sacrifice to some god or another…)

  
Damn it… somebody **DO** something!


	13. Tuesday, January 13, 4706

Years Lived: 1, 574 (although the boredom may be what does me in)  
Warriors Defeated in Battle: Many! …and yet, I cannot slay boredom itself.  
Warriors, Cat-Formed: 139 (might kill one just to relieve the boredom)  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 7; one on loan to Spicer, who is not DOING anything, for the love of the gods GET ON WITH IT!  
Monks Annoyed: Not as much as I am.  
Cupcakes Consumed: 237 (if I gain weight from this, EVERYONE is going to feel my wrath)  
Dragons Available for Making Lao Máng Lóng: 3 (at this point, I’m bored enough to contemplate knocking her up myself)

  
I am going to MAIM someone if excitement doesn’t happen soon!

Maim or fuck. One or the other. Maybe I’ll go test the waters with Pedrosa some more.


	14. Wednesday, January 14, 4706

Years Lived: Too damned many.  
Warriors Defeated in Battle: I am going to obliterate every last person on this planet and THEN move on to decimating the solar system!  
Warriors, Cat-Formed: Couldn’t tell you; the cowardly fuzzbags won’t come out from wherever they’re hiding.  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 7, but what the fuck does it matter? I’m not doing anything with them, neither is SPICER… Dragon Hells, I’m BORED.  
Monks Annoyed: Tohomiko, certainly!  
Cupcakes Consumed: 0 (I’ve decided to count them on a **DAILY** basis, not a “consumed in TOTAL” basis, so it doesn’t seem as bad)  
Dragons Available for Making Lao Máng Lóng: 3 (I’ve sent a load of cat kibble to that feline-ish thief in hopes it will make her work faster)

  
Despite my boredom, I have accomplished two things:

1) I have not eaten any cupcakes today (v. good)

2) Tohomiko walked in on me seducing Pedrosa.

The little fire-bitch was _outraged_ at seeing her on-again/off-again boyfriend pressed up against a wall by me. She did _not_ like seeing my hand rubbing the hard-on between his legs or the expression of arousal on his face as I nuzzled at his neck.

When I left, she was screaming at him and he was screaming back; something about how maybe his responding to another man might be her fault.

I should have stayed longer just to see the fight that most likely occurred.

At least then I wouldn’t be bored out of my mind. And horny! I am very horny.

…Now that I think about it, where is Wuya?

Ooooh! >=3 Things are looking up!


	15. Thursday, January 15, 4706

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors Defeated in Battle: I am a GOD among warriors!  
Warriors, Cat-Formed: 139 (although I could add one more if Wuya spits at me again)  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 7; one on loan to Spicer (he is making progress!)  
Monks Annoyed: Tohomiko sent me a letter bomb! I felt a vague tickle when it went off. I haven’t laughed that hard in a LONG time. >=D  
Cupcakes Consumed: 2 (v. good)  
Dragons Available for Making Lao Máng Lóng: 3 (I’m so pleased, I don’t care right now)

  
I have had an amusing day.

First, a letter bomb arrived in the mail from Tohomiko Kimiko, the Xiaolin Dragon of Fire.

Yes, that’s correct – a _XIAOLIN MONK_ performed a terrorist act (not that she doesn’t with every attack on Spicer, but I digress).

Apparently, she did not _not_ appreciate that I dared to encroach on _her_ territory.

Just for that, I’m going to visit Pedrosa again and make him come with my name on his lips.

While I was vaguely amused by Tohomiko’s audacity, what _truly_ has me wanting to giggle is Wuya. She defied my subtle order (as I knew she would) and went to get the Serpent’s Tail from Spicer.

Jack – our incompetent, bumbling, Rooster-brained, fumble-footed Spicer – burnt a hole _through her leg_ with a laser gun!

Despite the fact that he had not had any sleep for days (that Eye Spy Orb is _so_ handy!), he sent her running with a vicious injury! Not _only_ that – he also honored our deal!

Jack sent me a note, telling me what had happened and what he’d done!

I am so _proud_ of him! I never thought I would be proud of Jack Spicer, but I am.

This is definite proof that he is maturing, finally.

I’m so excited I may pee myself.

Back to Wuya, however! She came limping home, literally. She attempted to lie to me about how she received her injury, but Spicer’s note arrived first. I threw it to her to read, and she did, and then she tried to sweet-talk me.

Currently, she is down in my dungeon, chained to the wall with a few fresh cuts and burns and bruises adoring her body. I would have liked to have had her give me oral satisfaction, as well, but considering I was torturing her at the time… no. Just no. Adding sex to it would have put me in “rapist” territory, and I will not go there.

I am evil, but I have standards!


	16. Friday, January 16, 4706

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors Defeated in Battle: Many  
Warriors, Cat-Formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 7; one on loan to Spicer (who appears to have done something with it!)  
Monks Annoyed: Several, but especially Tohomiko >=D  
Cupcakes Consumed: 2 (v. good)  
Dragons Available for Making Lao Máng Lóng: 3 (I've ordered 300 bushels of oysters)

  
Well! Spicer seems to have been up to some kind of scientific nonsense that has paid off!

I do not understand the processes he used; I do not know the names of them.

All I need to know is that whatever he has done has resulted in success!

...if the wild, flailing dance reminiscent of an epileptic chicken was any indication.

I should do something dreadful to him for making me snort wine out of my nose, but every time I think of his insane little jig, I start laughing instead.

Silly boy.


	17. Saturday, January 17, 4706

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors Defeated in Battle: Legions Vast  
Warriors, Cat-Formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 7  
Monks Annoyed: All of them! Ha, ha!  
Cupcakes Consumed: 4 (mmmm... *hand waggle*)  
Dragons Available for Making Lao Máng Lóng: 3 (Oysters were a bust; all it did was make them fart. A LOT.)

Other than flatulent dragons (I have never smelled anything so rancid in my _life_ ), the only other important thing of note is that Spicer returned the Serpent's Tail to me.

I think I made his year when I complimented him on his responsibility in returning the Shen-Gong-Wu to me as well as honoring our deal to notify me when someone attempted theft of it.

I also let him know that Wuya had been punished. I was impressed with his casual acceptance of it, but I was even more impressed with the fact that he deliberately kept his visit short.

Oh, Jack... how I adore that you are finally growing up!


	18. Sunday, January 18, 4706

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors Defeated in Battle: Only slightly less of a number than my sexual conquests!  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 7  
Monks Annoyed: Tohomiko hates me with a passion!  
Cupcakes Consumed: 10 (bad)  
Dragons Available for Making Lao Máng Lóng: 3 (here's hoping Katnappé finds something soon)

From what I saw when I looked in on Spicer, he has acquired animals for testing. I'm surprised that he would test living things.

I'm not surprised he seems to have fallen for the rat.

It _is_ kind of cute, but I feel uneasy at the depth of intelligence it displays. The creature will bear watching.

In other news, I have been back to annoy the bloody hell out of Tohomiko by seducing her boyfriend. I have left visible hickeys on Pedrosa and I made him wake everyone up by screaming when he orgasmed.

I am a sexual god. XD


	19. Monday, January 19, 4706

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors Defeated in Battle: An Astonishing Number!  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 7  
Monks Annoyed: One for certain; the gods know about the rest  
Cupcakes Consumed: 6 (not _too_ bad)  
Dragons Available for Making Lao Máng Lóng: 3 ( _SIGH..._ )

  
I've decided to stay away from Pedrosa for the time being. Too much at once makes _me_ seem like the needy one. I want him to crave what delicious depravities I can bring to him.

Today, I decided to stay in and take it easy. A quick check on Spicer showed him doing the same, though I am definitely going to have to investigate that rat of his. It is _far_ too intelligent for a simple animal.

I watched _Lord of the Rings_ today - all three movies. Having read the books, I like mocking the changes made in the film and fantasizing what sort of nonsense I would get up to with that archer Elf, Haldir, if he were real.

Pretty, pretty, pretty!

...Though not as pretty as me. >=D


	20. Tuesday, January 20, 4706

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors Defeated in Battle: Many, many, many!  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 7  
Monks Annoyed: Guan (my old _friend_ seems to be a trifle peeved at my sexual predation of Pedrosa... Hee! =D)  
Cupcakes Consumed: 1 (v. good)  
Dragons Available... (You know what? Until there's anything worth reporting in this sector, I'm going to just shut up about it.)

So!

Spicer has shown himself to be a quick learner now that his mind and spirit are shedding the mortal coils of youthful naivete.

He improved his matter-shifting device - I can only assume from his studies of the Serpent's Tail – and won another Shen-Gong-Wu. This time, he won the Suǒ Xì Shí Ring. It was Dashi's first attempt at an omniscient SGW, followed by the Fountain of Hui. He realized with the Ring that knowledge must be both protected and shared. That is why the only safe way to use the Fountain of Hui is to use it with the Eagle Scope. He also decided that the Ring in and of itself was not a flawed mistake, as no knowledge is truly "trivial." Indeed, sometimes, the small and seemingly useless bits of trivia contain details that are needed for something else.

That, however, is not the point.

The _point_ is that Spicer won the Shen-Gong-Wu. Not only did he win, but he discovered how ultimately useless the monks' verbal posturing and taunting really is. I could see it in his cool crimson gaze as he looked at them with every taunt they made. He did not care what they had to say. _Nothing_ they said affected him. He is taking the first steps on the path to true greatness.

Spicer _is_ learning. He anticipated the monks would attack to steal back the Shen-Gong-Wu. He hid the Ring away from himself in a place they would not think to look _and_ he defeated them once again.

And once again, they failed to clean up the mess they made breaking into Spicer's home.

I would record their misdeeds to torture them with, but it would only spur them to mend their ways, thus strengthening them.

As the saying goes: "Ignorance is Bliss." In this case, it is the Heylin side’s bliss the longer those foolish children remain ignorant of their darkling path.

In other news, Guan stopped by to pay me a little visit, and by "little visit" I mean a spirited attempt at kicking my tail up between my shoulder-blades. He is not happy with my touchings of Pedrosa. He got even more displeased when I suggested he might be jealous.

My, my… what an _angry_ little monk!  >=3


	21. Wednesday, January 21, 4706

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors Defeated in Battle: A _LOT_.  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 7  
Monks Annoyed: All of them. >=D  
Cupcakes Consumed: 7 (bad)

Spicer came to visit today.

He didn't stay long, but the reason he came was to thank me for letting him borrow the Serpent's Tail. He gave me credit for his recent victories.

I am very proud of him. I showed it by speaking civilly to him. I believe he understood, too. O Happy Day for the Heylin that Spicer matures on _our_ side!

Now, if we could only do something about his dratted sense of fashion.


	22. Thursday, January 22, 4706

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors Defeated in Battle: 1,987,269  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 7  
Monks Annoyed: Fung has now joined the "Let's Be Pissed at Chase Young" club!  
Cupcakes Consumed: 0 (I would say this is excellent, but I was both so amused and irritated at Fung's presumption that I couldn't even think of eating)

The Chinese New Year approaches. In four days, _Ji Chou_ will be upon us. I cannot help but think that Spicer's change for the better coincides with the change of the year.

Spicer has investigated his pet rat. His findings confirm my own: It is simply a rat. An _enhanced_ rat, to be certain, but it is not a shape-shifter in disguise. I am pleased. Spicer requires the responsibility of looking after something that cannot be easily rebuilt or replaced should his negligence result in its destruction.

I would have eventually coaxed him into accepting one of the Giant Fire-Breathing Squirrels that guard my domain. He would have appreciated the gesture, I'm certain, the first time he scared the wits out of Omi with them.

Speaking of Omi, his mentor came to visit me in person. He tried to intimidate me with platitudes and "wise aura." I managed to kick him off of my mountain despite my giggle fit _after_ I told him to cram it up his ass.

I had no idea eyebrows could climb so high up a forehead!


	23. Friday, January 23, 4706

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors Defeated in Battle: Thousands upon thousands!  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 7  
Monks Annoyed: Plenty!  
Cupcakes Consumed: 1 (excellent!)

  
Nothing of note occurred today.

Wuya has been released from my dungeon, but she is too ill with her punishment to do more than lie in a pile and growl poison as she licks her wounds.

Bean is conspicuously absent from sight and sound. I feel itchy with irritation and anticipation, wondering what the pestilence is planning.

I watched Spicer. He went flying today. He is quite the aerial acrobat. If he had any talent for a Xiaolin element, he might very well have been the Dragon of Wind... a natural Sky Dancer, instead of relying on mechanical conveyance.

As it stands, he is _very_ adept at making his vehicle dance to his command.

His rat – now named Finnian – did not appreciate it nearly as much.

I am amused! =D


	24. Saturday, January 24, 4706

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors Defeated in Battle: Yes. >=D  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 7  
Monks Annoyed: One, in particular, is actually quite... pleased with me. *smirk*  
Cupcakes Consumed: 3

  
Bored.

I am very bored.

Nobody did anything interesting. Spicer watched inane cartoons, allowing his progress to backslide.

I sigh.

The only decent bit of entertainment I've had thus far has been another visit to Pedrosa. He tried to speak of trying his luck with Spicer; of "tapping that white ass," but quickly forgot how to speak considering what my tongue was doing to him.

Ha!


	25. Sunday, January 25, 4706

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors Defeated in Battle: Assuredly!  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 7  
Monks Annoyed: Tohomiko declared war; I beat the crap out of her.  
Cupcakes Consumed: 16 (v. bad)

B - O - R - E - D.

The only fun I've had was sending Tohomiko back to the Temple with multiple fractures.

Gah.


	26. Monday, January 26, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors Defeated in Battle: 3 TRILLION if I count the fucking cupcakes!  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 7  
Monks Annoyed: Don't care.  
Cupcakes Consumed: TOO DAMNED MANY. (v. v. bad)

  
It is now _Ji Chou_ \- the Year of the Ox! My birth year once again, though technically I wasn't born until the eleventh day of the month of April.

Gah. I'm feeling my age.

Or maybe that's just the BLOAT from the massive amounts of sweets I've eaten. >.<  
I observe the tradition of not eating meat this day. However, my metabolism is super-accelerated and there are only so many vegetables I _want_ to eat.

Therefore... cupcakes.

I do this every year, so I really should not whine about it, but I'm a grown warlord and I can pout if I want to!

Grah.

I am supposed to visit my parents, grandparents, or great-grandparents. To do that, I would have to die, and the whole point of the Lao-Mang-Lone is to _avoid_ that.

However, I shan't be handing out red packets. I'm not married, I don't have children, and I am certainly _not_ giving money to the monks or Spicer.

Speaking of Spicer, he is not observing the Chinese New Year. He follows the Western New Year. Fool. No wonder he has so much bad luck!

After all, today, he won the fireworks necklace. Dashi never intended that to be anything more than a novelty item.

It figures that now that Spicer has figured out how to win Showdowns, the only thing available is petty Shen-Gong-Wu.

That reminds me: I think he's on to something with his matter-shifter. He is absolutely capable of creating mechanical equivalents of Shen-Gong-Wu. I think he should do that for the rest of them. That way, he will have no need to battle using them, but can certainly acquire the Shen-Gong-Wu to keep them out of the monks' hands!

Now, how to make him realize that...?


	27. Tuesday, January 27, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors Defeated in Battle: I should go pick a fight with some country's army or another.  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 8  
Monks Annoyed: All of them! >=D  
Cupcakes Consumed: 0 (if I have another any time soon, I'm going to vomit)

Spicer won another Showdown! He won the Shuāng Stave which looks like the demented, mutated love child between the Sword of the Storm and Guan's Spear. I had already had that thought, but Spicer's similar – if convoluted description – in the note he sent along with the SGW proves it.

The note also made me laugh so hard I almost wet myself.

It is the second day of _Ji Chou_. I have prayed to my ancestors (actually, it was more along the lines of "It must suck to be you, being as DEAD as you are!") as well as fed and pet a few dogs.

I'm not a dog person – disgusting, slobbery things (although, puppies _do_ coax a tiny "Awww!" from me on occasion) – but the second day of a new year is the birthdate of ALL dogs everywhere, so if I want good luck where dogs are concerned, I had best be nice to them today of all days.

Speaking of dogs, back to Spicer!

He did very well against the monks. I laughed when Bailey was tossed into a group of whores. What a prude the boy is.


	28. Wednesday, January 28, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors Defeated in Battle: A veritable plethora of talentless klutzes have fallen before me.  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 8  
Monks Annoyed: Most likely.  
Cupcakes Consumed: 13 (argh!)

  
SO.

VERY.

**BORED.**


	29. Thursday, January 29, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors Defeated in Battle: Many!  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 8  
Monks Annoyed: They WILL be!  
Cupcakes Consumed: 3 (v. good)

  
So, things have livened up a little! Spicer has made progress. He gathered his courage and approached me, asking for help in SGW retrieval, as he is intelligent enough to know that he will not be able to acquire them on his own. We're keeping it simple for now; I will take SGW from the monks at random. Unlike that flashy little punk, I will not do so in such an ostentatious way that will _alert_ the silly nits to my presence, thus prompting them to _stop_ me.

Maybe, once Jack has gotten into the rhythm of improving himself, we'll work on Common Sense.  
The deal with Spicer is that I will procure for him _one_ SGW for him to study at a time. In return, he will owe me an unspecified favor to be repaid whenever I choose to call him on it. I can use as many favors as I want, whenever I want. Spicer basically handed me a signed blank cheque, but I believe I already mentioned the lack of Common Sense, so...  >=D

The deal is _not_ limited to me getting SGW from the monks. So long as I give him a 'Wu that he did not already have in his possession (i.e., I stole it from him only to give it back) or has not already studied, we're golden. Speaking of gold, though, you'd have thought I'd given him all the gold in the world when I shook his hand to seal the deal.

Jack has always been a little off, but that he gains so much pleasure just from a handshake... feh.

He is not my first fanboy; he will doubtfully be my last.

In other news, I made good on my plans as of the last journal entry. I annoyed the hell out of Wuya by going to visit Pedrosa. I know she spied on us. I marked his hips with scratches and I left him limp, breathless, and vulnerable; his backside and inner thighs stained with my leavings and the taste of me on his tongue.

The glare Wuya gave me when I sauntered home, rumpled and damp and smelling of sex... I think I know how the phrase "poison green" got started, if the look in her green eyes was any indication.

Ha! As Omi would say: I am the MALE!

Tomorrow, I shall check in on Spicer's progress with the Shroud of Shadows (I had that on hand and gave it to him immediately; I would _prefer_ he learn to be stealthy sooner rather than later!). Hopefully, that complicated brain of his will have discovered quite a bit of information.


	30. Friday, January 30, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors Defeated in Battle: The monks' monstrous egos and Wuya's pride, lately. =D  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 8 (Shroud of Shadows on loan to Spicer)  
Monks Annoyed: Yes! Ha, ha!  
Cupcakes Consumed: 0 (stupendously wonderful!)

Today was the fifth day of _Ji Chou_. To that end, I had dumplings for breakfast this morning. _Lots_ of dumplings, actually, in a variety of flavors. I confess: they are one of my favorite foods. I could eat them by the hundreds all day, every day.

That's why I haven't had any cupcakes, to be honest: I'm _stuffed_ on dumplings.

Businesses re-opened in Taiwan, along with the usual display of firecrackers and fireworks. I watched from a skyscraper rooftop while snacking on dumplings. I like the bright, pretty colors – though none of my foes or so-called allies will ever find out. I'd never hear the end of it and those foolish monks would probably try to distract me in the midst of battle.

Speaking of the monks, Pedrosa seems to be turning into a nympho. Middle of the day, and there he was in my throne room! Seems he'd snuck away from the Temple just to get laid, the horny little slut.

Still, the problem was that though I was aroused by his hunger for me, I was _full_ from all the dumplings. I compromised: He sucked me off and I talked dirty to him until he came just by rubbing his cock through his trousers.

Then, just to prove my evility (because the brat seems to have forgotten it), when he tried to entice me into more, I teleported him outside and left him to plummet to his doom – except that he managed to get his Wind powers going quickly enough and flew away, pouting.

The only true downside to it all was that Wuya tried to touch my still naked cock. I'd almost think she was still a ghost, as she seemed to materialize out of nowhere without a sound! I wasn't in any mood to let her touch me. I might not be for a while. She seems too repugnant for me to stomach, lately.

Perhaps it's the nonchalance she expresses whenever we did couple. Damn it, when I take someone to bed, they _will_ be appreciative of being granted the honor of my time and attention, never mind my body!

Pedrosa is fully aware that I am evil and that I am only using him, but he doesn't _care_. He cares only that I know how to give him intense sexual gratification and he _appreciates_ it.

The only one who could possibly appreciate it more is... Spicer.

Hmmm. With his newfound maturity (granted, it's not a _lot_ of maturity, but some is better than none!), Spicer is no longer completely abhorent. If his taste in clothing improved, and he matured a little more... by the time I'm bored with Pedrosa, Spicer _might_ be worthy to take his place!

We shall see.

For now, he seems to have figured out how to create a technological Shroud of Shadows. I wait only for him to come to me to prove himself worthy in _this_ aspect.


	31. Saturday, January 31, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors Defeated in Battle: Numerous!  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 8 (Shroud of Shadows on loan to Spicer)  
Monks Annoyed: Absolutely. >=D  
Cupcakes Consumed: 2 (good!)

Spicer can sew!

Hardly of earth-shattering importance, I know, but that boy is full of surprises. He can sew, he can play the violin, he can figure-skate at the level of an Olympian athlete... Half the time I surmise that his mother wanted a little girl and made do the best she could with her brutish, nerve-wracking son. The other half, I figure she made him learn all of these interesting little quirks so she would finally stop being _embarrassed_ by him at her social gatherings.

"Oh, what is my little Jackie up to today? Not much. He simply won _sixteen_ gold medals at the Winter Olympics, performed a violin solo for the President of France, and swaddled a newborn infant he delivered in a gorgeously designed shirt that he created himself."

Mothers... they're never satisfied until they gain social status due to the efforts of their progeny.

The reason I mention all this is that when I looked in on Spicer, he was sewing metallic fibers into a bedsheet – a strong indication that he had figured out how to create the technological Shroud of Shadows. He stopped after a while, flapping and shaking his hands, and went to goof off in front of the TV with junk food and his new pet.

Speaking of the rat, Finnian, I approve of that creature more and more. It seems the fuzzy little thing has taken it upon himself to train some discipline into Spicer. I wish it much luck with that, as it might save me a headache or two further down the road. Finnian has been forcing Spicer to pay attention to his bodily needs and wants. Sleep, for example; Finnian has been making Spicer go to bed at a decent hour instead of staying up all hours. Spicer is beginning to recognized the benefits of a decent night's sleep, I believe.

As well as understanding the meaning behind the phrase "all work and no play." I'm actually pleased to see him taking a break because it means he intends to get back to work, but he isn't burning himself out - which, any way you look at it, makes him fundamentally useless to me.

For now, I shall contemplate the thought of Jack relaxing on a sofa and why Cheetos-orange lips look strangely pretty on him.


	32. Sunday, February 1, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors Defeated in Battle: More than there are fleas on Dojo (and that’s saying a lot!)  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 8  
Monks Annoyed: HEE hee hee!  
Cupcakes Consumed: 15 (I HAD to!)

  
Spicer returned the Shroud of Shadows to me today. I made him demonstrate his new creation; not because I doubted his ability (well... perhaps a little bit), but simply to make him do as I say. He is so eager to remain in my favor that he will not risk jeopardizing it. Therefore, I will take advantage of him.

Oh... why do those words intrigue me about Spicer in an entirely new way? I'm not ready to accept him as a bedmate. He's honestly not even in the running right now. Wuya suffices in case I want to slake my lust on a female body. Pedrosa... ooh. What a _dirty_ little monk that boy is. Let me just say that he is _very_ gifted with his tongue. And the knowledge that I can have him anytime I want him – that he will agree to it by bending over and making himself available – is heady beyond measure. A sexually corrupt monk...

Damn it, I'm drooling.

As it is, Pedrosa and I had just finished a quickie when Spicer showed up. By 'quick', I mean that Pedrosa came to me with his ass already slicked and ready, eager for me to fuck him. I had only to shift my clothing, slip inside, and within a few minutes of violent motion we both came hard.

I wonder if Spicer could smell it. I was half-hard as I spoke with him; turned on by the knowledge of having this sexual deviance right under my fanboy's nose. Pedrosa was hidden in the courtyard, mere yards from Jack; his backside still tender and damp from my use of him. I purposefully stood so that Spicer's back remained to Pedrosa, allowing the Brazilian to escape, but at any time I could have revealed the Dragon of Wind to his enemy. The ensuing explosion would have been spectacular, I doubt not. The only reason I chose not to is that I do not want the monks catching on to what Spicer is up to just yet.

At any rate, Spicer demonstrated the completed invisibility device. It works perfectly, thus reassuring me that my budding faith in him has not been misplaced. I promised him another Shen-Gong-Wu, but I sent him home without one. I have yet to decide which one to give him. Perhaps the Tongue of Saiping, so he can have a conversation with his pet.

......A moment ago, curious, I decided to see what Spicer is up to. He is in bed already and I hate to admit it, but an "Awwwww!" snuck out of me at the sight of Finnian curled up in the thick nest of Spicer's hair, kneading at the boy's hair and scalp to make his bed even more comfortable.

I fear that those two are going to turn me into a dweeb.

P.S.: Today was the seventh day of _Ji Chou_ ; the traditional day of _raw fish salad_. Hence, the cupcakes. I’ve never liked fish and just _ew_.


	33. Monday, February 2, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors Defeated in Battle: More than Pedrosa’s wanton acts of horniness!  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 8  
Monks Annoyed: Undoubtedly, but not from my doing, recently.  
Cupcakes Consumed: 0 (after yesterday’s excesses… just NO)

I've changed my mind: Spicer is dangerous to me.

Why? Oh, no _big_ reason.

It's only that he has _worldclass baking skills_ and his _specialty_ , apparently, are cakes and cupcakes.

I am a dead man.

In other news, Spicer went whole-hog homosexual today. He stayed in, baked goodies (he even wore a cute little apron) and interior decorated. Thank the gods he got rid of those _ugly_ lime-green curtains in the dining room.

Honestly – what was his mother _thinking_ to have chosen those hideous things?

Then again, she probably wasn't – or didn't. People with money tend to throw it at the latest "in" decorator. Even if his or her style is puke-inducing ugly, it doesn't matter so long as the rich people can brag that so-and-so has done their house.

Still, Spicer pulls yet more hidden skills out of the bottomless carpetbag of tricks he apparently possesses. A baker and an interior decorator, with skills superb enough in both to make a better-than-decent-more-like-obscene living off of them.

If the whole Heylin thing doesn't work out for him, I'll employ him as my personal chef.

However, for now, I find myself curious as to _what_ that absentee nincompoop of a father of his is up to. Mister Spicer has sent his son something _alive_ from Burma. I fear it might very well be a Naga. After all, look at his track record: The last time he sent his son a disgustingly expensive, one-of-a-kind gift, Wuya was unleashed upon the world again.

Jack has no idea how many times I've refrained from slapping his father soundly and repeatedly.

Ah, well. I shall simply wait for the creature to arrive at Jack's residence. It should be another couple of days, and by then – if he hasn't broken and come whining to me – I will have the Tongue of Saiping available for him to study.


	34. Tuesday, February 3, 4707 - Wednesday, February 4, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors Defeated in Battle: 100,000 to the 6th power  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 9 (Tongue of Saiping on loan to Spicer)  
Monks Annoyed: Not half as much as I am. >=(  
Cupcakes Consumed: 4 (bad)

This entry is just past midnight, though the events took place only a few hours before.

I was _right_ : Spicer’s father sent him a fucking _Naga_ , pardon my godsdamned French!

Honestly, if I hadn’t taken a peek in on Jack, I wouldn’t have known it was there already. Hardly surprising, after I watched him leave a _magical creature_ under the simple guard of his robots, I hurried to the Temple to acquire the Tongue of Saiping.

When I returned, Spicer’s robots were a scattered field of smoking debris and the Naga was slipping into Jack’s bedroom.

I did battle with the serpent, careful to evade its poison, for a Naga’s venom can be dangerous even to me. I threw the Tongue of Saiping to Spicer and ordered him to call the creature by name. I gave him the clue that the Naga was a beast with the command over weather.

I was hoping to buy some time. I never in my life would have thought _Spicer_ , of all people, would know the Naga’s name!

However, by calling the creature by its name, Spicer effectively bound it to him in a convoluted sort of way. Jack does not, technically, _own_ the Naga, but he has invoked a set of rules in which the snakey little creep must cease attacking Spicer and instead parley with him until Spicer declares war between them. Then, the little fool had a conversation with it! Naturally, as it is a magical creature, I could understand it without the Tongue of Saiping, as could Spicer.

It wasn’t until Finnian started setting up a riot of squeaks that the Tongue of Saiping was brought into play. I shared the activation of the SGW, as I wanted to hear what the rodent had to say.

He is quite the versatile rat, I must say. He slipped between slang and verbosity with graceful and lyrical ease. Here are a few examples of his linguistic talent:

“You dipsticked, donkey-humping, jock strap-slurping, dick-sucking, zit-nibbling, fuck-brained assclown!”

“You are an unequivocally sybaritic swine and a narcissistic, blood-curdling conglomerate of intellectual constipation!”

It took Spicer a few moments to calm down long enough to realize Finnian was talking to _him_. Apparently, the rodent had not cared for being left in the Naga’s field of view all day.

Still, it is apparent that Finnian has come to care for the boy. When shocked hurt filled Spicer’s face, the rat sighed and rubbed his chin affectionately against his human companion. Spicer, being the easy dweeb that he is, caved immediately and cuddled Finnian back.

The Naga, in the meantime, has yet to be dealt with. Now that he knows he can talk to it (and he hadn’t even _tried_ ), Jack is hoping to _keep_ the thing.

I waited for Jack to leave the room with Finnian before I explained to the Naga that I consider Spicer to be part of my territory and I will be most displeased should anything happen to him.

Naga or not, it was still cowed by me. As Spicer would say: I has a smug. >=D


	35. Thursday, February 5, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors Defeated in Battle: Massive amounts of them, to be sure.  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 10 (the Tongue of Saiping on loan to Spicer)  
Monks Annoyed: Yes! >=D  
Cupcakes Consumed: 2 (v. good)

  
Today, the Earthquake Spade activated. I retrieved it because I don't want those little nincompoops to figure out that it would be better for the _non_ -Earth elementals among them to learn how to use it as an added advantage rather than give it to the Dragon of Earth. That's all I need: Omi sending a tidal wave of _mud_ in my general direction.

As it stands, I participated in a three-way Showdown: Me vs. the Monks vs. Wuya. She had this idea that she could channel the Spade's magic to re-create her Rock Creatures rather than whomp up an earthquake – either of which would be annoying if sent against me.

None of this was helped by Omi shouting about us having a "threesome," which prompted a fit of horrified giggles from Wuya, facepalming from the other monks, and a headache from me as well as a queasy stomach.

Please, for the love of all that is Heylin, _someone_ teach that monk proper slang!

In other news, the Naga is still at Spicer's house and frightening Finnian terribly. Spicer has cottoned on to the fact that keeping Finnian on his person will keep the rodent safe from attack, but I have my suspicions about the _intention_ of the attack. I know what a reptile in lust looks like, and when I peeked in on the strange little group, the Naga was staring at Finnian with a fair amount of "I need to get laid NOW!"

I am more than a little disturbed by this: A _snake_ wanting to _fuck_ a _rat_. Finnian, of course, is a nervous wreck and Spicer is oblivious. I have the feeling that if Spicer gets a clue, the first thing he's going to do is beg me to take the Naga off his hands – or allow him and Finnian to move in with me; neither of which is desirable to me at this time.

Still, I confess to a moment of oddity. When I peeked in and saw the Naga staring so lustfully, my _first_ thought was that he was staring at _Jack_ , because I hadn't seen Finnian nestled in Spicer's hair.

I felt strangely... jealous.

How weird is it that I have no current sexual designs on Spicer, yet the mere thought of another magical creature trying to put the moves on Jack irritates me? Or perhaps it is only that I am cranky at the thought of being replaced as #1 Evil Hero in Spicer's esteem?

I must meditate on the matter. For now, I am pleased that Spicer is working quickly on the technological version of the Tongue of Saiping, but I figured it wouldn't be a huge challenge for him. I'm not sure which one I want to give him next: The Golden Tiger Claws or the Reversing Mirror.

I must say I'm not that eager to give Spicer the means to teleport anywhere he wishes to go at will. The gods alone know how many times he'll let himself into my palace. Yet, it won't be long before the idea occurs to him naturally. After all, the boy built a _time machine_ because he was _bored_. If I give him the Claws, it might trigger his newfound "honor" to not misuse the teleportation ability against me.

However, the only reason for giving him the Reversing Mirror would be his ability to throw the monks' – or anyone else's – attacks back at them. His matter-shifting device already does a good enough job at that and if he suddenly begins displaying Reversing Mirror-type powers, the monks will get suspicious, and we can't have that just yet.

Hmmmm... yes. The Claws it is.

Now, to go meditate on why interference with Spicer annoys the hell out of me.


	36. Friday, February 6, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors Defeated in Battle: I really must compile a list of the many ways to say “a lot.”  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 10  
Monks Annoyed: Not recently. =(  
Cupcakes Consumed: 6 (bad)

Spicer returned the Tongue of Saiping to me today. He also gave me a copy of the technological version that he'd created. He was wearing his own set, but I will not use mine until he comes up with a better solution. I don't mind the earpiece – it's the metal part that attaches to the inside of my mouth that bothers me. It seems awkward and unsanitary and gross; I will not use it.

However, Spicer has now made a better acquaintance with my warriors. Diol, in particular, got along with him strangely well.

Or maybe it was the rodent in Jack's pocket that Diol was sniffing after.

Spicer brought Finnian along with him on his jaunt out to my palace, rather than leave his tiny companion alone with the Naga. A rather shrewd bit of foresight that further proves Spicer is maturing, as previously, I believe he would have left Finnian behind only to return to an incredibly traumatized rat – if Finnian had still been there at all.

Still, Jack _is_ finally becoming an interesting specimen. That is why I invited him to stay and have dinner with me.

The little twerp promptly choked on a gasp, tripped over his own feet, and bloodied his nose when it smacked against the marble floor.

Once I got Spicer calmed down and cleaned up, I escorted him to the dining room and we had a fine meal; nothing extravagant, but significantly better fare than his usual diet of pizza and pudding cups. I made more than a few comments and hints about how much better he'd be if he ate properly and got some exercise more often.

That being said, we talked about the Shen-Gong-Wu some more and Spicer's plans for them. We figured out a list of SGW to be studied in order, rather than play it by ear. Spicer was, surprisingly, logical with his choices. The Sapphire Dragon, we agreed, was not necessary to replicate in _any_ form, while his plans for the Mantis Flip Coin surprised me.

Spicer figures that for _that_ one, he should work with Katnappe in order to turn it into a biological reproduction. Sell it to the world as a cure for muscle degenerative diseases – and the black market as a performance enhancing drug.

That one rather surprised me; I never would have thought of using the MFC in such a way. Neither would I have thought Spicer would willingly work with that feline-obsessed thief.

Still, I was pleased with the progress we made during dinner. I was vague when Jack mentioned the Monkey Staff, but I have a reason for it: Until I can figure out _how to_ and _if_ I should help him with that, I won't let him muck about with that staff. He hasn't the discipline to keep his thoughts human while his body goes monkey. Likewise, I ixnayed the Ring of the Nine Dragons.

 _Nine_ Jack Spicers running around? Thank you, no – I'd rather my balls be roasted in hellfire than subject myself to _that_.

After dinner (and dessert), I took Spicer on a slow walk all around my palace while we talked some more, but not necessarily about the Shen-Gong-Wu. I asked him questions about his childhood; his life before he met me and the monks. He asked me questions in return, though very few of them were about my personal history. He seemed too scared to ask me such personal questions. I would have answered them, but he only managed a couple before he switched to world history instead. Foolish boy; he still allows his fears to hold him back!

He seemed most surprised when I let Finnian crawl about on me. The rat is disgustingly cute. I very nearly let out an audible "Awwwwwwwww!" in front of Spicer.

Fortunately, I was saved the embarrassment, as he turned into a 13-year-old girl when Finnian discovered the luxuriousness of my hair and curled up for a nap on top of my head.

Spicer: "Awwwwwwwwwww! Whoza widdle cutie-pie?! You is! Yes, you is! Whoza--?"

Finnian: *SQUEAK chirk squeak SQUEAK!*

It was hysterical. Spicer wouldn't tell me _what_ Finnian said, but given the shocked (and pouty) look on the boy's face as he muttered about "bossy mean rats", I'm willing to bet my Lao Mang Lone that Finnian told him to shut the hell up, or words to that effect.

All in all, the evening was a success.


	37. Saturday, February 7, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors Defeated in Battle: A lot of, abundant, adequate, ample, complete, considerable, copious, countless… I could go on, really.  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 10 (the Golden Tiger Claws are on loan to Spicer)  
Monks Annoyed: They will be once they see Pedrosa walking funny. >=D  
Cupcakes Consumed: 4 (Meh. *hand-waggle*)

  
What in the name of all ass-ugly hells is wrong with me?

I had a wet dream about _Spicer_ last night!

I dreamt that he'd been sold into a harem by his father (who actually _has_ been paying a surprising amount of attention to his son lately) in exchange for archaeological dig rights somewhere. I went to retrieve him and, instead of simply magicking him away or destroying all and sundry with my superior mastery of war and warriors, I decided the only way to safely retrieve him was to pose as a visiting dignitary, whom Jack then had to dance for. One thing led to another, and...

I admit, I've been subtly investigating my food supplies on suspicion of Wuya tampering with them. I've found nothing so far.

However, when I awoke from that disturbing dream, I had an erection to deal with. I went to the Temple and had Pedrosa in the garden, on his knees, in the dirt. It was hot, nasty, and quick – in short, perfect.

The boy is a natural slut. The way he rolls his hips is deliciously obscene.

On to other matters, however, before I get myself so worked up I need to go find _Wuya_ to take care of the problem.

Spicer now has the Golden Tiger Claws. He accepted my subtle guidance on the Ring of the Nine Dragons, though I believe he'll mention the Monkey Staff again. We will see.

In the meantime, Spicer agreed to the list of SGW we've already established he will work on for the year. Let him be content with that for now.

 _Grah._ Despite my intentions, I cannot stop thinking about sex right now. Wuya is closer and more convenient this time around. I will check on Spicer tomorrow.


	38. Sunday, February 8, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors Defeated in Battle: Endless, enough, everywhere, extravagant, full, galore, generous, great, heaps…  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 10 (the Golden Tiger Claws on loan to Spicer)  
Monks Annoyed: Gods, I _WISH_.  
Cupcakes Consumed: 33 (I’m _traumatized_. It’s _allowed_.)

Today has been one of the strangest, most embarrassing days of my life – and that's saying something when you're 1,574-years-old.

When I wish to speak with someone and they are not brought to me, I generally teleport to that person's location. It's the will of the magic and my own will mingling. I want to be where that person is at the current time; the magic wants to take me there. Abracadabra and all that rot, there I am!

 _Smack in the middle of Jack Spicer's bathroom just as he is getting out of the shower._

Red eyes flared wide, the already pink cheeks (steam and heat from the shower) darkened in color... that poor boy was _mortified_.

Hardly as mortified as _I_ was to find myself abruptly sporting an _erection_ at the sight of all that warm, white skin.

He made a few crude gestures about covering up and leaving the room, presumably to dry off and get dressed.

I waited until he was gone and then sealed the door locked behind him. I...

Gods, I can't believe I....

I cannot deal with this if I do not acknowledge it. I know lying is evil, and by all rights I should lie to myself, but... this must be addressed.

I saw Jack Spicer naked and the sight of him so pure and clean, with all that white skin and a very pretty cock aroused me. I locked the door once he left and made use of the lotion on the bathroom counter and masturbated to give myself relief while recalling the sight of him.

*scowlgrumpglare*

I _jerked off_ to the visual memory of a startled, embarrassed, naked seventeen-year-old boy.

I feel filthy.

Especially since I growled Spicer's name when I climaxed.

I had _no idea_ that fucking rat of his was in the cabinet until several minutes later, when I had cleaned myself up and unlocked the door, and Spicer came in to _retrieve_ Finnian! Apparently, the medicine cabinet was Finnian's hiding place while Jack showered.

I gave that rat the dirtiest look I knew how to give to convince it to keep silent.

Here's hoping it _worked_. The _last_ thing I need is Spicer thinking I want him or am in love with him or something equally revolting.

At any rate, I merely went over there to see how he was progressing with the Golden Tiger Claws. Spicer is doing very well. I figured it would be easy enough, since the little twit had built a time machine just because he was bored.

....What is wrong with me? Spicer is such a dolt, such a dweeb, such a _nerd_ ; untrained, unpolished – soft and squishy and easily damaged, both emotionally and physically!

I have never before thought of him sexually and do not particularly want to fuck him now.

But I cannot stop thinking of him, so smooth and clean and flushed from the heat of the shower, with his eyes so wide and innocent.... and his cock! Despite his other faults, Spicer is blessed with an impressive length even when soft. Smooth white skin that I have no doubt is soft to the touch... the memory of it and that surprisingly curvy backside torment me with arousal!

 _Damn_ that little bastard! I haven't been this wild to fuck since I first became evil and realized I no longer needed to abide by foolish monk beliefs of abstinence!

I will go to the Temple. Pedrosa will not be able to walk tomorrow, but I _do not care!_


	39. Monday, February 9, 4707

  
Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors Defeated in Battle: A very great many!  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 10 (the Golden Tiger Claws on loan to Spicer)  
Monks Annoyed: Indubitably. >=D  
Cupcakes Consumed: 0 (v. good, but haven’t been around long enough to eat them)

Spicer sent an upgraded version of the mouth piece of the technological Tongue of Saiping for me to try. I didn't get around to it immediately. I was busy elsewhere when it arrived at the mountain.

Specifically, I was at the Temple – only briefly.

Only long enough to catch Pedrosa.

I took us away to a secluded location and did all sorts of nasty, dirty, lewdly sensual things to him.

I am beginning to wonder if I haven't gone into some kind of dragon-ish heat. I know that my monster form is taken from an actual species of dragon that long ago left Earth and moved to a higher plane, but I haven't the ability to discover precisely _what kind_ of dragon. All I could glean from my few, very expensive attempts to petition a higher power for answers was that it was from a dark, nightmarish species that was known for intense actions and deeds in _all_ things.

As I know very little about the species that forms my monster body, I can only assume that I am beginning to experience some kind of sexual cycle.

Pedrosa certainly doesn't mind, if the pleasured screams and demands for more are any indication.

For myself, it's rather annoying to have an erection most of the day. It takes quite a bit of control to force myself _not_ to pounce on the nearest available person (Wuya) and rut mindlessly.

It's even more work to not pounce on _Spicer_. Never mind that the boy is not yet truly worthy of me, but I have given him no indication prior to now that I would willingly fuck him. He'd most likely feel and react as if he's been raped if I were to have him now.

What a revolting thought – not only of rape, but the thought of doing such to Spicer.

Still, for the length of this phase, for however long it lasts (here's hoping it's not a thousand or so years!), I shall make use of Pedrosa. He puts his ass up for me _very_ nicely, after all.  >=D

For now, I shall test the new mouth piece for the Tech Tongue of Saiping. I still dislike the thought of attaching anything unnatural to the roof of my mouth, but if it means I may use an alternate form of communication with my warriors (and other animals), thus saving me any drain of power, then I am pleased.


	40. Tuesday, February 10, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors Defeated in Battle: Immeasurable, jam-packed, lavish, loads, lotsa, many, mega, mucho, no end, plenteous…  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 11 (the Golden Tiger Claws on loan to Spicer)  
Monks Annoyed: Oh, YES. =D  
Cupcakes Consumed: 40 (but I haven’t gained an ounce. I think it’s all the sex.)

Today was interesting in that I acquired a great many bottles of fine bourbon and Spicer won a fairly important Shen-Gong-Wu: the Golden Horse Shoe.

Believe me, SGW names depended on their creator. Some, like Dashi, were in possession of TOO MUCH creativity. Others were trenchant in the extreme.

As for the booze: I was in Kentucky! They do two things _really_ , _REALLY_ well in Kentucky: Bourbon and Horses. I went to acquire the SGW (and got it) and afterwards swung by two distilleries – Maker’s Mark and Buffalo Trace. My Alcohol Vault is once again _fully_ stocked with premium booze and the authorities will _neeeeeeeeeever_ find it.

I am a _happy_ dragon-lord!

In regards to the new SGW I picked up today… As one might surmise from the name of it, and the fact that it is an impossibly glittering-gold horse shoe, it is a device of Luck. How one holds it when wielding it, however, determines the outcome of that luck. If the GHS is held upright and activated, then Good Luck abounds. If the GHS is held upside down (the prongs pointed downward), then Bad Luck abounds.

The GHS is, subtly, a device of irony as well as luck. It really hammers home the old homage: "All that glitters is not gold."

Further irony is that Jack – an Agent of Evil – stole the GHS from Tohomiko using his Tech Shroud of Shadows by tripping her and making her drop the thing.

Yet more irony is that Finnian bit Dojo's tail hard enough to make the obnoxious gecko bleed.

At any rate, I did not want the Xiaolin monks (already in possession of teeth-grinding Good Luck) to have an even larger advantage. I went to the Showdown, arriving after Spicer had already won it. I have to admit that while he was doing an insufferably smug "In Your Face" dance, I was watching his round little bottom move with great interest.

Pedrosa saw me looking, too. It lent further heat to his words when I showed up later that night for sex and he snarled at me about "Not getting lucky, even _with_ the Golden Horse Shoe!"

Some deft, physical persuasiveness later, I left him groaning in contentment in the training hall. His clothes were scattered far and wide and his strong, tan thighs were smeared with my essence.

 _What_ was that about not getting lucky, punk?

Anyway: When I arrived, I watched Spicer's backside move in a rather enticing way ( _why_ can he not show that same level of grace when actually in combat?), and then I nearly gave him – and the monks – heart failure when I simply asked him for the GHS.

Fortunately for me, he rallied and handed it over with disgusting good cheer and little else. No bragging, no grandstanding... he really is growing up.

I am pleased.

...I am also horny again. Pedrosa is, by now, too sore to accommodate me again, so I suppose I'll have to make do with Wuya.

I really must try to find out more about this dragon cycle I'm experiencing. It isn't the more-than-usual sex that I mind so much: It's being left with no other choice than Wuya. Still, despite her irritating lack of appreciation for her privilege of mating with me, she does have long, smooth legs, and a warm, tight....

Enough. Must fuck.


	41. Wednesday, February 11, 4707 - Thursday, February 12, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors Defeated in Battle: Plentiful, profuse, satisfying, scads, sizable, substantial, sufficient, very many, voluminous…  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 11 (the Golden Tiger Claws on loan to Spicer)  
Monks Annoyed: Certainly, ONE of them is.  
Cupcakes Consumed: 0 (too annoyed)

More irony with the Golden Horse Shoe: I am now _not_ happy.  >=(

It seems that little slut, Pedrosa, is getting _far_ too uppity in regards to our illicit activities together. Spicer sent me a message to let me know that the Tech GTCs would be delayed, and why.

I have yet to figure out how to correct Pedrosa's behavior. If I go to the Temple to tell him to stop his petty little temper tantrum, then the monks' attentions will be focused decidedly on Spicer, which would ruin our plans for now.

Pedrosa came to see me a little bit ago, trying to seduce me, and I sent him away. He knew I was hard (he, unfortunately, came to visit at a time when I was not wearing my armor), so he knew that I was ready for sex – and still chose not to have it with him.

I sent warriors to Spicer's home immediately. I haven't heard back from them, yet, but their orders are to protect Jack and the SGW _and_ his projects at all costs.

 **Edited to Add – 2/12/4707, as it is now past midnight**

Further information: My warriors contacted me. It seems Pedrosa went to Spicer's place _yet again_ to take his frustrations out on the boy (honestly – the Xiaolin are considered _Good_ Guys?). I arrived and deflected Pedrosa's elemental attacks. He then proceeded to scream at me about 'who the fuck did I think I was, dumping him for some ugly, desperate floozy?!' and other nonsense.

Apparently, I had been 'dating' Pedrosa. I had no idea.

I thought I was just making use of an eager, randy slut of a boy from time-to-time for sex.

Spicer seemed shocked by the whole thing; enough that I had to make us both a pot of tea (I _like_ Spicer's kitchen; a good-sized workspace, immaculate everything, and appliances that he himself has greatly improved). We had tea and cookies, and after he got over the shock of me: 1) Fucking men, and 2) Fucking Pedrosa, he seemed to adjust enough to whine to me about his personal life.

Frankly, I was expecting a flailing tantrum of "Why him and not meeeeeeeeeeeeeeee?!"

I think _that_ is the greatest sign of maturity in Spicer at the moment. I could see disappointment and hurt in his lovely crimson eyes, but he didn't cry or scream or have any sort of fit. He simply... accepted it.

He's becoming more and more attractive by the day. Dare I say it... by the moment.

I wonder if that is what prompted me to the lunacy of inviting him to dinner on the fourteenth. He was telling me all about his father's impending visit with some strange girl who was 'just perfect for him', and how Negriss would most likely kill them both unless Spicer handed over Finnian, and the next thing I know, I was inviting Jack to dinner for that night.

It went something like this:

Spicer: "Blah blah blah father coming to visit blah bringing some strange girl blah blah hook up and make babies NO THANK YOU blah blah Negriss won't behave unless I let him molest Finnian yadda."

Me: "Your father is stupid beyond all measures of humanity, but if you truly do not wish for him to die just yet, call him back and tell him you have plans for that evening."

Spicer: o.0 "I have?"

Me: "Yes. Have dinner with me that night."

And so it went, with Spicer attempting to choke to death on a sip of tea right before my eyes.

One manly (and perhaps a little mean) backslap to clear his lungs later, Spicer picked himself up off the floor and squeaked out a yes, echoed by his pet and an annoyed hiss from Negriss, who was hidden somewhere nearby.

To sum up: I was 'dating' Pedrosa (according to him), we've 'broken up' (according to him), and now I have a 'date' with Spicer on Valentine's Day.

Can my everlasting life _get_ any more strange?


	42. Friday, February 13, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors Defeated in Battle: The “who hasn’t been” list is shorter!  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 11 (the Golden Tiger Claws on loan to Spicer)  
Monks Annoyed: Certainly!  
Cupcakes Consumed: 28 (v. bad; eating out of boredom and frustration)

The irony of this day is going to _kill_ me.

Friday the 13th: Notorious day of bad luck.

In my possession: The Golden Horse Shoe, currently stored _upright_ to keep the thing tuned to the Good Luck side of things.

Me: About to die of blue balls because I refuse to go near Pedrosa after that moronic temper tantrum yesterday and I do not want to fuck Wuya right now.

I will have to find someone relatively attractive to fuck soon, else I shall be driven mad. As it is, I already have a few new calluses on my right hand.

However, my Spy Crow has flown home to tell me that Spicer has finished the Tech GTCs, so I know he shall bring the originals with him when he comes for dinner tomorrow.

....Oh, _damn_. Spicer will be here, in my home, for at least two hours.

With _me_.

I should cancel. I'm too randy to be safe for him.

Yet... I'm not entirely certain I _want_ him to be safe from me.

He _is_ old enough and he has progressed admirably with his newfound maturity. Too, that last glimpse I had of him stepping out of the shower... he is no short little boy, all soft limbs and endearing innocence anymore. He is a teenager on the verge of adulthood. I was actually surprised when I saw him without his bulky layers of clothing and that hideous trench coat. Spicer has long, slender limbs. He's skinny and wiry. He can move with a dancer's grace (when he wants to), and his face holds only a fleeting trace of the baby-fat that once rounded his jowls.

Spicer has grown, in more ways than one.

.....I believe I am _definitely_ looking forward to dinner tomorrow night.


	43. Saturday, February 14, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574 GLORIOUS years! =D  
Warriors Defeated in Battle: Who cares? =D  
Warriors, Cat-formed: …I’ll figure it out later. =D  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: Don’t know, don’t care, I GOT LAID! =D  
Monks Annoyed: Really don’t care right now. =D  
Cupcakes Consumed: None; too busy swallowing OTHER things. =D

Where to begin?

Let's try this: I'm writing this in the comfort of my bed, as always.

The "So what's new about that?" part that needs paying attention to is that I'm not alone.

Jack Spicer is in bed with me.

Currently, he is sound asleep – which is fine. When I'm done chronicling this entry, I shall take him home, tuck him into his own bed, and return.

For the time being, he is exhausted. As well he should be, considering what I've done to – and with – him tonight.

Spicer arrived at my palace dressed _nicely_ for a change. I'd expected him to arrive in his usual ragged, black trench coat, clunky boots, and eyeliner. Instead, he arrived wearing dress shoes (black), dress slacks (black), a cashmere V-neck sweater (dark red), black wool overcoat, his hair clean and un-gelled, without a trace of eyeliner in sight.

My honest reaction was an immediate and painful erection that he, thankfully, could not see. I say 'thankfully' because I, too, was not in my usual attire. I was wearing a nicer suit of clothes; silk, of course, with gold embroidery and embellishments at the neck, wrists, and trouser hems. He seemed to like it if the look in his eyes was any indication.

Still, my first order of business was to hand over the Third Arm Sash after he returned the Golden Tiger Claws to me. I magicked them back to their hiding spot while he tucked the TAS into an inner coat pocket. Then, he pulled off the black gloves with the metal claw tips he'd worn (he'd used the Tech GTCs to get to my place) and presented them to me.

I must say, I like them quite well. I shall ask him to make a pair in dark green for me. The Glove Claws are not 'on' all the time, so when not in use as teleportational devices, they simply appear to be a pair of menacing weapons. I rather like the idea of sporting claws while in human form.

At any rate, we settled down to dinner. A sumptuous feast, heavy on the fruit and chocolate. He had an odd look on his face when he saw the chocolate-dipped strawberries.

The poor lad is even more socially withdrawn than I am, though. I invited him to talk with me about things, though I specified we find something different to talk about for a change. No SGW, no tech, no monks... something new.

It got a little awkward.

Jack: Ummm... *glancing around, clearly trying to think of something* ...Uh, how much do you know about anglerfish?

Me: I know they are fish.

Jack: Well... um... anglerfish have a really odd partnership. When they want to mate, a male angler bites a female, slowly dies and shrivels to a pair of gonads and is carried around by the female until she is ready to mate with his remains.

Me: ......o.O

Jack: *flails hands* For God's _SAKE_ , Chase! You can't put me on the spot like this! I only _know_ tech, Shen-Gong-Wu, and the monks; I don't have a _real_ life! I couldn't figure out where to download one! *pout fume etc.*

I decided to make it easier on both of us and lifted the no-tech-SGW-monks restriction. I couldn't tell who had a more palpable sense of relief: Me or Spicer.

We spoke of the SGW (Jack reiterated his plans once again to market what he could as well as make personal weapons from them), the tech, and the monks. Though, we spoke about them only long enough for me to commend him on his evility of subtlety attacking Pedrosa in return for the tantrum at the Spicer Mansion. Jack had a visible smug, as well he should. That was rather brilliant of him to send a bio-weapon to take down his enemy. Spicer didn’t simply accept Pedrosa’s bullying; he fought back. Good for him!

Talk turned to Jack's father's impending visit (Spicer is _still_ not happy about it, understandably so) and Finnian (who came with Jack and was content to stay curled up in a coat pocket with his own little water bottle and snack). I took the opportunity to mention my belief that Negriss is lusting after Finnian not as food, but as a fuck-toy. Jack agreed, and from his coat – hung up nearby – we heard an outraged squeak. Then, Jack made mention of how male snakes have _two_ penises. Finnian let out a volley of high-pitched squeaks and the coat thrashed in response to the fit he was having. Jack had to leave the dinner table to calm the rat down.

He had his back turned to me and, because he had dressed nicely, I could see how well his dress slacks clung to him. It was then I decided I definitely would have him.

I now narrate what happened:

"I _know_ what horny reptiles look like, Spicer. I am one."

He turned back to face me, wide-eyed and startled, with his mouth just a little bit open and I could feel my inner-dragon rising fast. "Oh... uh, really?"

I nodded. "Yes. And thanks to Pedrosa's spectacularly fail-worthy tantrum the other day, and my lack of desire for Wuya, I am _particularly_ horny right now."

A look of subtle fear and excitement filled his face and that was more than my dragon could take. Even as he made faux-curious noises, I was rising; getting up and moving around the table to stalk him as if he were prey.

He was, if I'm being honest. I was hunting him for sex and he was definitely my prey.

I walked closer and closer to him. A pink blush filled his cheeks and his red eyes darkened. He was worried, yes, but he was more excited than anything else. That is why I said to him confidently, "I believe you must be feeling the same right about now, Spicer."

"How do you figure?" he challenged me.

I moved closer; reached out and touched one bare finger to a pink-hot cheek and felt him shiver.

"Perhaps it is the fact that you have not yet had a lover, and you've not been left alone in your own home to engage in self-pleasure for at least a month," I replied, moving closer.

He closed his eyes on a grimace of agreement.

A foolish move.

The instant he took away his sight, I was on him.

He tripped, reeling backwards to get away from me when I caught hold of him. Rather than hold him up, I let him sink to the floor and bent to follow him. He lay on the marble floor of the dining room, staring up at me with wide, worried red eyes. He shivered from the cold of the floor, arching up as best as he could as I held him down against it; my knees to either side of his hips, his hands curling up around my biceps. They flinched and twitched, there, against the black silk cloth of my attire, but I paid little attention to those fingers. Between my legs, I could feel his erection hard and hot even behind the cloth of his trousers.

I said not a word to him; merely looked at him. He really _is_ a genius. Instead of fighting or pleading, he simply nodded. His fingers clutched at my sleeves and he tipped his head back a little, offering his mouth, his throat.

I bent; caught his mouth with mine and kissed him.

Gods, the boy tastes so sweet.

I've had virgins before. None of them tasted as delicious as Jack Spicer does.

We stayed there on the floor for a long while, kissing each other, until the cold marble was too much for Spicer to bear and his shivering distracted us.

It was then that I teleported us to my bedchamber. A fire was already going in the hearth and, as always, my sheets and blankets are freshly laundered every day.

I took great pleasure in stripping him out of his pretty clothes. I kissed and licked each bit of skin I revealed, because I was fascinated with his snow-white skin. I still am. Even now, I feel myself heat with the memory of it. Spicer's skin is so smooth as to rival the finest silk. I shall have to ask him how he comes by such smoothness.

I bared him; touched and tasted him. He made such raw, needy noises as he arched into my touch and trembled. Several "Please" and "Oh, God" and whimpers escaped his throat. I gave him a moment or two to catch his breath; let him sit on the bed and he promptly stopped breathing when I removed my own clothing.

The look in his eyes... disbelief and hunger and appreciation all at once... _that_ was what I was missing. I haven't seen that look in a long time.

I walked forward and his gaze dropped to stare at my erection with desire and trepidation. My ego, in that moment, had it been a corporeal manifestation, could have crushed and subjugated the entire world.

We both noticed, at the same time, that he was sitting with his mouth perfectly level with my cock. I didn't even have to coax him. A very determined expression filled Spicer's face as his long, white fingers came up to carefully touch my cock; flinched, trembled, and then slowly tightened their grip around me.

Despite his more effeminate and flamboyant gestures, Spicer is _definitely_ a man. Like every sexually active man, he knows just how hard to grip an erection.

"You don't have to do this," I told him, lying through my fanged teeth. No matter what else happened between us, I had already determined that Spicer _would_ be sucking my cock.

He seemed to know it, too. Jack shook his head, briefly glanced up, and said, "What's the point of having me here if I don't?"

Fortunately, I was saved having to reply to that as he opened his mouth, leaned forward, and wrapped his lips around the head of my cock.

He recoiled immediately; unused to the sensation, but that brief warm-wet touch of lips and tongue was enough to make me shiver with lust and moan softly. I think it was my visible appreciation of his touch that brought him back; determined to try, determined to please me.

Once again, his mouth went over and around me, and though his expression was pure disgust, he never moved away from me. He touched me with his tongue, lapped at me inexpertly. I very nearly came right then and there, and held back only by the most strenuous inner-battle for control.

By then, I was breathing hard – unbearably aroused by this untried boy's attempt at oral sex. It was astounding (still is) how intensely wonderful his touch felt. It wasn't simply because I hadn't had sex in over sixteen hours... it was because it was _Spicer_ touching me. My lovely little fanboy, who has only ever wanted to please me.

The thought of his devotion to me made me growl. He froze and tried to pull away, but I threaded my fingers into his hair and held him fast. Carefully, not wanting to injure him and drive him away, I taught him the motion. I whispered to him to slide his fingers into his mouth to dampen them, and then stroke them along the shaft. When he had done so, and I was reeling with the pleasure of his inexperienced touch, I guided his head slowly closer to me. He tensed, resisting a little, but I crooned to him; murmured little reassurances that I would not hurt him, that he was safe, that I only wanted more of his mouth on me.

I have discovered that Spicer likes sex talk.

I slowly taught him how to slide his mouth forward on me, taking me inside, and then drag back with lips and tongue. I let him play with the motion so he would not feel trapped or forced to submit to this. Once he was comfortable with it, I let my hips begin to move. The motion of my cock sliding forward into his mouth startled him, but soon, he accepted it; matched his motion to mine and fluttered his tongue against me, sucked at me greedily in a complete reversal of his earlier hesitancy.

I fucked Jack Spicer's mouth with arrogant, luxurious relish.

I could not last long – I was too desperate for an orgasm, having been denied sex with another person for well over a day. I pulled away from his mouth when I felt my climax coming. Bending, I pressed him down onto the bed and stretched myself out beside him, half on top of him. I kissed Jack, sharing my flavor between us, as I took his hand and wrapped it around my cock.

We stroked in awkward rhythm, but it didn't matter. Soon, I was snarling my pleasure into his mouth as I came, spattering his hand, soft inner thighs, and cock with my essence.

I did not pause to rest. I was too hungry for more. I will say now that I have not yet penetrated him with anything more than a finger or two. I was too greedy to be safe with him. If I had attempted to fuck him, I'd have done him an injury. No... only Pedrosa is sufficiently loose and ready to accept me in full rut.

I startled Jack, however, when I moved down his body after I came. I heard him mutter something about "You don't pass out even for sex?" and then, I took his erection into my mouth.

He loosed a shattering scream and arched up, having never felt another person's mouth around him. I managed a few sucks, a few strokes of my lips and tongue, and then he came hard, sobbing actual tears as he did so.

He was near senseless by the time he was done, but I roused him again, and introduced him to a night of sensual debauchery. I taught him how to use his mouth in all ways pleasurable and how to touch and stroke me all over; not just my cock, but my entire body. He was surprised, but I informed him that seduction required only a touch in just the right place – and that place need not be a man's dick.

To demonstrate, I touched his neck. Jack's neck is very sensitive. I dragged my fingernail lightly along the back of his neck and he was instantly shivering and whimpering, unable to decide if he liked it or not. Then, I kissed his neck, licked it, and he decided he liked it very much.

I made him come just from my ministrations to his neck alone.

I am an evil sexual god.

As I mentioned, I put my fingers inside him, nothing more. I did it to get him used to the sensation; to the idea that it needn't be a painful experience.

Then again, I don't think he learned anything because I also had my mouth on his cock again, and he was far too busy screaming and swearing as he came. I'm pretty sure he isn't aware that he was riding my fingers like a whore as he came in my mouth while screeching some of the filthiest words I've ever heard in my life.

Spicer, it seems, is a pottymouth once he loses all control over his ability to speak properly.

Nevertheless, I must count the evening a success. Spicer let me seduce him, learned how to suck my cock... hells, by the third time, he willingly let _me_ come in _his_ mouth!

As it stands, I would gladly wake him for another round or three, but he is exhausted. Better that I take him back to his bed and leave him there to rest in peace than risk taking more of him before he's ready.

But he _will_ be ready. I'll make certain of that.


	44. Sunday, February 15, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors Defeated in Battle: Lots and lots and lots.  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 11 (the Third Arm Sash on loan to Spicer)  
Monks Annoyed: Probably.  
Cupcakes Consumed: 3 (good)

I haven't seen hide nor hair of Spicer today. I confess to being both relieved and anxious. Relieved because I half-expected him to show up on my doorstep, declaring us lovers or some-such rot. Anxious, because... well... would it _kill_ the little twit to send a Thank You note, at the very least?

"Dear Chase, thank you for dinner, it was delicious. Thank you for your cock; it was delicious, too. Drop by any time you need a convenient fuck or three. Your devoted fanboy/minion/servant/sex-slave, Spicer"

That's too much to hope for, I know, but I like the mental image I currently have of Spicer in nothing but a loincloth, a collar, and a leash – which I am holding.

Ooooh, no – best not think of that right now. I am feeling rather warm and relaxed, but I do not relish the thought of another erection right now. After having actual sex, instead of masturbation, I would want to seek out a partner. Spicer will get the wrong idea if I go to him now, and the only other one nearby and available is Wuya.

Speaking of that witch... Diol informed me that she was listening in on dinner with Spicer last night. Which means she heard my declaration that I no longer find her desirable, even in my current 'must-fuck' cycle.

I will have to be wary of her, more than usual. The old adage is true: "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned." Whatever else Wuya may be, she is definitely a woman and will not take that slight well.

For now, I shall bide my time. If Spicer holds true to his pattern, within a few days, he will have finished with the Third Arm Sash. I can then bring him the Fist of Tebigong and see about introducing him to the pleasure of having a hard, hot erection inside of him.

Oooh. No.

Down, boy.


	45. Monday, February 16, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors Defeated in Battle: I’m running out of ways to say “a lot,” so I shall cease writing about this from now on.  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139 (this stays; I lose track of them, otherwise)  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 11 (the Third Arm Sash on loan to Spicer)  
Monks Annoyed: Absolutely!  
Cupcakes Consumed: 14 (v. bad)

  
By golly, that Spicer boy really _is_ a genius!

I have received the GTC Gloves I commissioned from him, and by 'commissioned' I mean 'demanded.'

They are a blend of the finest, most flexible, yet most durable metal and the finest, most flexible, yet most durable green leather. The claw tips are the goldish color of the Shen-Gong-Wu they were copied from. They work perfectly, fit me like a dream, and I look _so_ dangerously yummy in them.

If the drooling by Pedrosa was any indication when I took a trip to the Xiaolin Temple on a test run was any indication.

Not only that, but Spicer included a thank-you note for our rambunctious evening together. He wasn't crass, but he definitely let it be known that he enjoyed both the food and the *ahem* evening's entertainment.

I am feeling _most_ gracious toward him. I hope he finishes the Third Arm Sash sooner rather than later so I may deliver the Fist of Tebigong to him – along with an orgasm or three.

Which reminds me: I haven't seen Wuya in a few hours. I need to find out what that witch is up to.

In other news: I received an update from Katnappé, finally. She has finished her study of the dragons and thinks she can begin work on a cloning process if I can acquire bits of scale or hair or skin (or preferably all three) from the living dragons in the world.

I believe it's time to drop in on my old "friend" Guan and see how Chucky Choo is doing. Then, it's off to the French Riviera to find Fifi.


	46. Tuesday, February 17, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 11 (the Third Arm Sash on loan to Spicer)  
Monks Annoyed: Tomorrow.  
Cupcakes Consumed: 2 (v. good)

I find myself supremely annoyed and pouting like a child.

All because I cannot currently fuck Spicer.

I sent a note to him, thanking him for the supremely well-crafted GTC Gloves (work that well done ought to be praised!). I also hinted rather strongly that I would like to have sex with him again.

I received a note in reply that simply stated: "Useless tired."

Irritated, I used the Eye Spy Orb to verify that note. I saw him passed out atop his bed, still fully clothed, sleeping on his right arm.

Putting away the Eye Spy Orb, I used the GTC Gloves to go to Spicer. I stood there at his bedside, staring down at him for a few moments. He looks so... strangely sweet when he is asleep. He's an annoying, obnoxious, loud, brash young man when awake. Asleep, he's soft and innocent and delicate in a pretty way.

Still, I could not leave him lying like that. Asleep on his right arm...? Thank you, no – I want him fully functional.

I used my power to levitate him, strip him naked, and then settle him back onto the mattress. I even hung his ugly goggles on the hook attached to his bed, where they obviously reside when not on his head. I smoothed his red hair, careful of the claws I was wearing, and he made such a satisfied sound that my body responded rather strongly.

Naturally, I controlled myself. To have used him for sex while he was asleep would be akin to rape; he wouldn't have given me his vocal permission and I will not do something so crass.

I covered him up, wondering why he was so tired out – and why he was singed pink in some areas, as well as bruised – and then decided "To hell with it" and read his most recent journal entry.

Yes, yes, yes: I invaded Spicer's privacy and read his journal. Oh, no... bad me.

As it turns out, his _father_ is the reason he is so exhausted. That ninny-hammered twit, Spicer _père_ , took his son out for a day's activities all because Jack spotted Negriss lurking around in hopes of biting Martin Spicer. Rather than have a care for his son's obvious special needs due to albinism, he dragged Jack around to do "rugged and manly" things that Jack has no aptitude or desire for. Then, as if that wasn't bad enough, he ditched his son to fuck some nameless whore.

I was so annoyed that I was growling.

My first order of business was to find Negriss and impress upon that dratted creature that if he put Jack in such a condition again by threatening anything Jack gave a damn about, I would turn one magical snake into a pretty new _belt_. Also: The extorted promise from Jack of letting Negriss have Finnian was now null-and-void _unless_ Negriss would care to challenge me on that subject?

No?

Didn't think so.

 _Then_ , I went and found that old fool Martin Spicer.

I found him asleep in his bed with the scent of a woman, as well as a woman's clothes, in the room. Turns out the old bastard not only brought home the whore he'd picked up, but he'd fucked her in his wife's bed.

Charming. Just charming.

Now do I see from whom Spicer inherited his lack of common sense.

I sensed that the whore was in the bathroom, so I made my errand quick.

I clamped my hand onto Martin's face, keeping his mouth closed. He thrashed awake, fighting, but I quickly immobilized him. He was terrified as he stared up at me, but I had his attention and I made use of it.

"Listen to me, you self-centered idiot," I snarled at him. "I am your son's mentor and his sponsor. I have _plans_ for him that will make the most of his natural talents. You are _too late_ to fill the position of role model in your son's life. That should have been done years ago. Now, I have the care of him. I will guide him and encourage him. He will not be left to languish, ignored and unwanted, any longer. You have done nothing but complicate Jack's life since you decided to reinsert yourself into it. I strongly suggest you go back to making yourself scarce and sending the occasional gift, else I shall have to find a more... _permanent_ solution to the problem."

He was shaking with fright and I could smell ammonia rising. I knew he was going to piss himself at any moment. I let go of his face and got off the bed, and was preparing to leave when I heard him ask raggedly, "Are you molesting my son?"

I gave Martin a cruel smile and said, "For the past five years, while you have been absent from his life, I have had to vehemently reject your son every time he offered himself to me. Now that he is old enough, and has finally matured, there is nothing to stop me from accepting his offer."

I will give Martin Spicer credit. Fatherly fury darkened his face at the thought of someone possibly hurting his son sexually.

I distracted him by telling him, "I shall do him no harm in that area. However, instead of worrying about your son having sex, perhaps you would like to visit the bathroom where the whore you brought home is currently swallowing some of your wife's more valuable earrings for later... retrieval."

That distracted Martin quickly enough. His wife might overlook his infidelity to a point, but when her gems go missing, then it's too much.

Jack's father disappeared into the bathroom, already shouting, and I vanished back over to Jack's room. I found Finnian hiding beneath the pillow and reassured him that Negriss would not be collecting on Jack's thoughtless promise. Then, I gave Jack's hair a final stroke and came home.

Only to find cat vomit everywhere.

It seems my warriors got into some questionable food. Again, I cannot prove that Wuya had anything to do with it, but it is highly suspicious that she is not here.

Everything is clean, now, and I find that I am also tired. I'm still sexually frustrated, but now I am too tired to give a damn.

Hopefully, tomorrow I can make use of Spicer.

I have this fantasy of visiting him in his lab and taking him from behind as he bends over his work table....

Damn it. I have one more thing to do before I go to sleep, it seems.


	47. Wednesday, February 18, 4707

When I finally checked back on Spicer, he'd finally woken up somewhere close to noon. I let him be so he could be more oriented, more awake. Just as well, since he has work to do on the Shen-Gong-Wu. He has finally figured out _how_ to recreate the Third Arm Sash, if not _what_ he plans to do with it once he has it assembled.

I let him be for the most part of the afternoon. Finally, as the sun began settling, I could not wait any longer and took myself to his lab.

I materialized in the darker shadows of the vast room with a perfect view of Spicer's backside. He wasn't wearing his ridiculous coat, so as he concentrated on his task, bent over his work table, I was able to see the delicious round firmness of his ass, encased in dark jeans.

Spicer then surprised me further.

He began _singing_.

I could hear the sounds of electric guitars coming from his iPod and when the lyrics began, he sang along with them.

Spicer has _amazing_ vocal range; truly amazing. He mimicked the singers almost exactly, dropping only a note or two here or there as he sang words that I at first mistook for gibberish, yet soon realized were poetry. He sang, and I listened with a smile on my face. That _voice_... I wonder if he can perform opera? I wouldn't doubt it.

I thought the impromptu show could not get better, but it did.

Spicer began to dance in place as he worked. His hips tilted and rolled, swaying him from side-to-side in a sinuous motion. The sheer, flowing grace of the motion makes me wonder if he's ever had _raqs sharqi_ lessons. I wouldn't doubt that, either.

He sang, he rolled his hips... really. Was I supposed to keep my hands off of him?

I think not.

I used my magic to shut off the music, move the things he was working on to another table, and put Finnian safely in his cage somewhere else. Just as Spicer was beginning to realize something was happening...

...I was on him.

I flattened him to his work table, my mouth on the back of his neck and my hips curved to match his. I did a hip-roll of my own so he could feel my excitement against him, since I had pulled away my armor skirting as I'd walked toward him with the intent of taking him.

Fuck the rest of my armor – I'd get it off later.

At that moment, I had to get _me_ off!

I bit and sucked at the back of his neck; caught his wrists and stretched them out, pinning them down to the table as I aroused him through his sensitive skin. He cried out, at first startled, and then turned on.

Especially when I crooned at him, using my "sex voice." Pedrosa had called it that; said that when I was very horny, my voice turned into "audio sex sounds."

I considered the boy foolish for his descriptions, but I like knowing that my voice is yet another sexual tool at my disposal.

"Spicer," I murmured to the young man pinned beneath me, and rolled my hips against him again. "Jack. Are you still feeling... useless tired?"

I licked delicately along the back of his neck, traced my name against his skin with my tongue tip, and waited for his answer.

"N-No," he gasped, arching back against me. "God, no - Chase! God! Please!"

I grinned and bit him gently even as I thrust forward, hard and slow, against him. "Please _what_ , Jack?"

To my surprise, he actually said it. I don't know if he blushed - I wasn't looking - but my lovely little virgin prey _actually said_ , "Fuck me! Chase, please, put it in me! Fuck me!"

I _liked_ the sound of that, so I let go of his wrists and reached beneath him to unfasten his jeans. I hadn't the patience when the zipper jammed, so I simply ripped the fabric apart. It was _almost_ amusing - his legs were encased in denimu to the tops of his thighs. Beyond that, everything was bare; all cloth gone. Spicer looked as though he were wearing stockings; a thought that, strangely, does not dissatisfy me.

I stroked one gloved hand down over his backside, startling him into a yelp when I used my magic to ensure the cleanliness of his backside. Even as he asked me what I'd done and why, I was sliding down into a crouch behind him.

He screamed as if he were being murdered at the first touch of my tongue to his hole.

Thanks to me, Jack was perfectly clean. The scent and taste of him was pungently _Spicer_ , if that makes any sense. I held him still; forced him to take the pleasure I gave him with my tongue - mainly so he could not hurt _me_. If I'd let his hips move freely, he'd have likely broken my nose given the way he was thrashing, trying to ride back on my tongue.

I do believe Spicer _likes_ getting eaten out.  >=3

Being as talented as I am, I pulled back; tickled his skin with my tongue as I pulled my gloves off and tossed them aside, and then quickly opened my own trousers. I had not seen anything I could use as a lubricant, so I was going to have to make do with a semi-acceptable source.

Once I had bared everything that needed baring, I put my tongue to his hole again while one hand went up between his legs and clasped his hard cock. It took only a few thrusts of my tongue and a few strokes of my hand, and Spicer was coming hard, screaming and writhing as he did so.

I stood, my palm and fingers full of his essence, and began preparing him to take me. He shuddered at the first touch of my fingers as they pushed into him, but his orgasm had relaxed him wonderfully. I would have preferred taking a long time – a half-hour, an hour – to simply play with him with my fingers, but semen is not a perfect lubricant. It dries distressingly quickly.

"Jack," I called to him, and did it again and again until he finally lifted his head and responded. "Jack, do you have any oil of any kind? Where is it?"

He pointed to a countertop across the room and I spied a small canister of oil. It wasn't perfect, but it would not poison either of us. A thought brought it winging across the room just as I pulled my fingers out of him and put the tip of my cock against his hole.

Jack gasped and tensed, but I stroked his cloth-covered back with my gloved hand; trailed the claws gently over him.

"Relax," I murmured, though I'm sure I growled. "Jack, don't tense."

I opened the canister of oil and drizzled some over my erection, and then tossed the canister to the floor. Taking hold of Jack's hips, I held on tight and began pushing my cock into him.

Jack groaned and hunched in on himself. I bent over him, the action pushing me a little deeper inside him, and once again began seducing him with my mouth against his neck.

"Easy," I said to him, using my sex voice. "Easy, Jack, I won't hurt you. Let me in, Jack – you asked me to fuck you, _begged_ me, now let me _in_..."

I could feel him flexing around me as he tried his best to follow my orders. I have no doubt it was frightening for him. After all, I am rather large and long when soft; aroused, I am... _impressive_.

But I meant what I told him: I would not hurt him like that.

I told him this again and again, that I would not abuse him, that I wanted to be in him _very_ much. I think that's what did it; my obvious, desperate desire to be inside him. For this moment, it was clear to him that he was _very much wanted_.

Spicer sucked in a shivering breath, another, and then relaxed with a sigh, allowing me to push fully into him. He whined, the sound straining in his throat as he was filled with my cock, but I drowned the sound out with my growl of appreciation.

I don't recall precisely what I said then. I know I complimented him, but I don't know what I said. I would assume it was on how perfect his ass felt, and it _was_. Gods, but I'd _never_ felt anything clasp me so perfectly before in my long life. I was stunned with how utterly wonderful it felt to be nestled deep inside Spicer. He had taken me fully inside, and so easily. Not even Pedrosa had managed that until the fifth time I'd had him on his hands and knees. Wuya had never been able to take me fully, either.

Spicer did, though. A virgin young man had accepted me into him simply because I'd asked him to.

My delicious, devoted little fanboy....

I fucked him there over his work table, just as I'd fantasized about. I gripped his hips and stared down at him, watching him writhe, gasp, and scream vulgar words of appreciation as I thrust my cock in and out of his ass, hot and dirty and quick. I said nasty things to him; dark, dirty words of lust and gratification as I used him for my own pleasure.

He came again, simply from being fucked up the ass and the sound of my voice. He required nothing else but the pleasure of sex and _me_ being the one giving it to him.

I... don't recall much of the rest of that session. I felt him coming, heard his sweet cries of ecstasy and knew that Jack had come because I'm just _that_ good at fucking. I have this vague recollection of curling down over him, holding onto him as I began moving harder, faster....

My next clear memory of it all is coming back to himself, feeling myself trembling as I rested atop Spicer with my cock throbbing inside of him and that warm, wonderful ache of a really good orgasm.

I wasn't through with him, yet. I carefully pulled out of him and lifted him, settling him on his work table, and then crawled up beside him. We lay sprawled together on the surface, catching our breath, until Jack gasped and said, "Finnian! Uh, Fin, I don't know—“

"Your rat is not here," I informed him. "I sent him to his cage in your room before I interrupted your work."

"Oh," he said with evident relief.

"Why?" I asked. "Afraid he would mock you for allowing another man to fuck you? Afraid he would turn on you for begging me to fuck you?"

Spicer replied in the negative, but by then I was ready to go again. I startled him when I put him on his back and crawled between his thighs, my cock hard for him again.

"A-Already?!" he gasped, his eyes wide.

"Dragon," I said simply, and kissed him.

We kissed for a long time, until he pulled his mouth away and asked why I was not putting it in him. I told him I was waiting for his permission and _that_ rewarded me with Spicer's complete trust.

He gave me a filthy grin; lifted his legs and wrapped them around my hips as he reached down to pull me closer, inviting me inside him.

I pushed into him, kissing him through his soft groan of discomfort, and had him again on his table, this time face-to-face.

He arched up against me, his pottymouth running wild as he clawed and clutched at me, clearly delighting in the feel of me moving inside him even though he was not yet hard himself. I was surprised when, as I began moving faster as my climax approached, he suddenly went rigid beneath me, trembled, and then came again himself. There wasn't much fluid, as he'd already come twice, and he was only half-hard, but _still_... I am a sexual _GOD!_

I took my pleasure on Jack, coming hard and deep inside him, and then collapsed down beside him.

Sometime later, I felt up to moving us to a better locale. I used my own power to teleport us up to Spicer's room. However, I had to make a slight detour in my immediate plan of stripping us both naked and doing something perfectly, sexually filthy.

Finnian's cage is in Spicer's room – complete with Finnian.

Since Spicer doesn't have any lubricant (something I intend to fix), but I do, I decided I might as well make a trip home. I picked up Finnian's cage, teleported home, and set the rat and his cage in my personal parlor with the news going on the flatscreen TV so he can get caught up on anything he's missed.

Trust me: I know that animals are far more intelligent than they appear to be.

I retrieved my lubricant, and then returned to Spicer's room just in time to find him sitting up and looking around, wide-eyed with worry even as he instinctively began curling into a ball.

He was startled to see me again. I kissed him, stripped us both naked, and then took us into the bathroom for a shower so we could get clean of the oil I'd used in his lab.

No orgasm in the shower for either of us. We weren't ready yet and besides, there's nothing wrong with anticipation! Jack seemed stunned that I was allowing him to wash me. The look in his eyes as he watched his soapy hands guide a washcloth across my skin... he looked as though he were witnessing a miracle.

And to think I hadn't wanted to fuck him for a while longer!

Occasionally, even _I_ have moronic intentions.

We cleaned up (I used magic to clean him _inside_ again, which he claimed felt like having his innards tickled with a feather duster; strange, _strange_ boy) and then went back to bed. He used his robots to order food and drink for us. I refrained from the food, but we both drank lots of juice.

By the time we were done, I couldn't wait any longer.

I showed him _what_ I had gone back home for, told him that it would be beneficial to his backside to get a supply of his own, and then acquainted my tongue with his entire body.

Jack seemed hesitant to let me see him entirely nude. In particular, he seemed worried about the bruises decorating his body, though I can't think why. I liked looking at them. Though I don't particularly care for the reminder of how delicate he is, the purple and black and green of the contusions looked beautiful against his lovely white skin.

I have never seen skin so utterly _white_ as Spicer's before. I've met albinos in my time, certainly, but none of them were so startlingly _intensely_ albino as Jack is. Instead of palest peach skin, he has _white_ skin; so white and translucent that the gray shadows of his veins are visible. Instead of pink eyes, he has _red_ eyes.

You'd think, since he's albino, that he'd have _white_ or white-blond hair, but I discovered – this time around, yes, I was paying closer attention – that his pubic hair is the same color as his head hair.

HOW IN THE BLOOD-GUTTED PUS-SPEWING DEPTHS OF HELL CAN THAT RED HAIR BE NATURAL?!

Spicer is a conundrum right down to his coloration.

There's no confusion about what he _likes_ , though. We pleasured each other with our mouths again (oh, gods of evil, _YAY_ for that boy's tongue!) and then Jack let me inside of him again; another face-to-face round of sex.

I can still feel the faint scratch marks he left in my back. >=3

True, he was pulling and clawing with all his might, but that says a lot. For _Spicer_ to have left marks in _my_ skin...

Feel my smug! >=D

We managed one more round of sexing. Spicer learns _fast_ , I must say. I had been kneeling in the middle of his bed, leaning back on my hands, watching him suck me. Then, surprisingly, he pulled back. He gave me a naughty smile, and then turned gracefully and settled himself on his hands and knees. He looked back over his shoulder at me and rolled his hips in a slow, inviting motion.

I was on him – and in him – so fast that he screamed in surprise.

I rutted Jack for a long, long while; fucked him until he was boneless with lust and pleasure, sprawled beneath me on the bed, moving only to meet each of my thrusts with a jerk of his own hips, welcoming me into him.

I'm not sure which of us came first, but it doesn't matter: we both came hard, screaming each other's names.

Ah... dear me. I pull out of my reminiscing now to see that I have filled a 300-year-old ornate crystal ashtray with almost a dozen cigars.

Absolutely worth it, though.

The strange thing is that I cuddled Spicer afterwards. He started to make the move to do so, and then clearly thought better of it. However, I was pleased with him. He had serviced me _very_ well. Also, it helps there to _be_ a next time with Spicer if I give a little instead of take a lot.

He was very surprised when I pulled him to me for a cuddle.

It really isn't so much to give. A snuggle in bed, stroking his hair and his soft, smooth back while languishing in the warmth of a few orgasms... not that much to give.

He fell asleep against me, as I knew he would. I stayed with him a while longer, and then left him in his bed – the sheets and his skin stained with my essence.

I will return Finnian to him tomorrow, though I don't doubt fucking Spicer again will have to wait a few days for him to recover.

Unless I make do with his pretty little mouth. >=3

Hmmmm... no. On second thought, I will return Finnian tonight. Best to remove any temptation to use Spicer again for now. I want him fully recovered for our next round of fucking.


	48. Wednesday, February 18, 4707

When I finally checked back on Spicer, he'd finally woken up somewhere close to noon. I let him be so he could be more oriented, more awake. Just as well, since he has work to do on the Shen-Gong-Wu. He has finally figured out _how_ to recreate the Third Arm Sash, if not _what_ he plans to do with it once he has it assembled.

I let him be for the most part of the afternoon. Finally, as the sun began settling, I could not wait any longer and took myself to his lab.

I materialized in the darker shadows of the vast room with a perfect view of Spicer's backside. He wasn't wearing his ridiculous coat, so as he concentrated on his task, bent over his work table, I was able to see the delicious round firmness of his ass, encased in dark jeans.

Spicer then surprised me further.

He began _singing_.

I could hear the sounds of electric guitars coming from his iPod and when the lyrics began, he sang along with them.

Spicer has _amazing_ vocal range; truly amazing. He mimicked the singers almost exactly, dropping only a note or two here or there as he sang words that I at first mistook for gibberish, yet soon realized were poetry. He sang, and I listened with a smile on my face. That _voice_... I wonder if he can perform opera? I wouldn't doubt it.

I thought the impromptu show could not get better, but it did.

Spicer began to dance in place as he worked. His hips tilted and rolled, swaying him from side-to-side in a sinuous motion. The sheer, flowing grace of the motion makes me wonder if he's ever had _raqs sharqi_ lessons. I wouldn't doubt that, either.

He sang, he rolled his hips... really. Was I supposed to keep my hands off of him?

I think not.

I used my magic to shut off the music, move the things he was working on to another table, and put Finnian safely in his cage somewhere else. Just as Spicer was beginning to realize something was happening...

...I was on him.

I flattened him to his work table, my mouth on the back of his neck and my hips curved to match his. I did a hip-roll of my own so he could feel my excitement against him, since I had pulled away my armor skirting as I'd walked toward him with the intent of taking him.

Fuck the rest of my armor – I'd get it off later.

At that moment, I had to get _me_ off!

I bit and sucked at the back of his neck; caught his wrists and stretched them out, pinning them down to the table as I aroused him through his sensitive skin. He cried out, at first startled, and then turned on.

Especially when I crooned at him, using my "sex voice." Pedrosa had called it that; said that when I was very horny, my voice turned into "audio sex sounds."

I considered the boy foolish for his descriptions, but I like knowing that my voice is yet another sexual tool at my disposal.

"Spicer," I murmured to the young man pinned beneath me, and rolled my hips against him again. "Jack. Are you still feeling... useless tired?"

I licked delicately along the back of his neck, traced my name against his skin with my tongue tip, and waited for his answer.

"N-No," he gasped, arching back against me. "God, no - Chase! God! Please!"

I grinned and bit him gently even as I thrust forward, hard and slow, against him. "Please _what_ , Jack?"

To my surprise, he actually said it. I don't know if he blushed - I wasn't looking - but my lovely little virgin prey _actually said_ , "Fuck me! Chase, please, put it in me! Fuck me!"

I _liked_ the sound of that, so I let go of his wrists and reached beneath him to unfasten his jeans. I hadn't the patience when the zipper jammed, so I simply ripped the fabric apart. It was _almost_ amusing - his legs were encased in denimu to the tops of his thighs. Beyond that, everything was bare; all cloth gone. Spicer looked as though he were wearing stockings; a thought that, strangely, does not dissatisfy me.

I stroked one gloved hand down over his backside, startling him into a yelp when I used my magic to ensure the cleanliness of his backside. Even as he asked me what I'd done and why, I was sliding down into a crouch behind him.

He screamed as if he were being murdered at the first touch of my tongue to his hole.

Thanks to me, Jack was perfectly clean. The scent and taste of him was pungently _Spicer_ , if that makes any sense. I held him still; forced him to take the pleasure I gave him with my tongue - mainly so he could not hurt _me_. If I'd let his hips move freely, he'd have likely broken my nose given the way he was thrashing, trying to ride back on my tongue.

I do believe Spicer _likes_ getting eaten out.  >=3

Being as talented as I am, I pulled back; tickled his skin with my tongue as I pulled my gloves off and tossed them aside, and then quickly opened my own trousers. I had not seen anything I could use as a lubricant, so I was going to have to make do with a semi-acceptable source.

Once I had bared everything that needed baring, I put my tongue to his hole again while one hand went up between his legs and clasped his hard cock. It took only a few thrusts of my tongue and a few strokes of my hand, and Spicer was coming hard, screaming and writhing as he did so.

I stood, my palm and fingers full of his essence, and began preparing him to take me. He shuddered at the first touch of my fingers as they pushed into him, but his orgasm had relaxed him wonderfully. I would have preferred taking a long time – a half-hour, an hour – to simply play with him with my fingers, but semen is not a perfect lubricant. It dries distressingly quickly.

"Jack," I called to him, and did it again and again until he finally lifted his head and responded. "Jack, do you have any oil of any kind? Where is it?"

He pointed to a countertop across the room and I spied a small canister of oil. It wasn't perfect, but it would not poison either of us. A thought brought it winging across the room just as I pulled my fingers out of him and put the tip of my cock against his hole.

Jack gasped and tensed, but I stroked his cloth-covered back with my gloved hand; trailed the claws gently over him.

"Relax," I murmured, though I'm sure I growled. "Jack, don't tense."

I opened the canister of oil and drizzled some over my erection, and then tossed the canister to the floor. Taking hold of Jack's hips, I held on tight and began pushing my cock into him.

Jack groaned and hunched in on himself. I bent over him, the action pushing me a little deeper inside him, and once again began seducing him with my mouth against his neck.

"Easy," I said to him, using my sex voice. "Easy, Jack, I won't hurt you. Let me in, Jack – you asked me to fuck you, _begged_ me, now let me _in_..."

I could feel him flexing around me as he tried his best to follow my orders. I have no doubt it was frightening for him. After all, I am rather large and long when soft; aroused, I am... _impressive_.

But I meant what I told him: I would not hurt him like that.

I told him this again and again, that I would not abuse him, that I wanted to be in him _very_ much. I think that's what did it; my obvious, desperate desire to be inside him. For this moment, it was clear to him that he was _very much wanted_.

Spicer sucked in a shivering breath, another, and then relaxed with a sigh, allowing me to push fully into him. He whined, the sound straining in his throat as he was filled with my cock, but I drowned the sound out with my growl of appreciation.

I don't recall precisely what I said then. I know I complimented him, but I don't know what I said. I would assume it was on how perfect his ass felt, and it _was_. Gods, but I'd _never_ felt anything clasp me so perfectly before in my long life. I was stunned with how utterly wonderful it felt to be nestled deep inside Spicer. He had taken me fully inside, and so easily. Not even Pedrosa had managed that until the fifth time I'd had him on his hands and knees. Wuya had never been able to take me fully, either.

Spicer did, though. A virgin young man had accepted me into him simply because I'd asked him to.

My delicious, devoted little fanboy....

I fucked him there over his work table, just as I'd fantasized about. I gripped his hips and stared down at him, watching him writhe, gasp, and scream vulgar words of appreciation as I thrust my cock in and out of his ass, hot and dirty and quick. I said nasty things to him; dark, dirty words of lust and gratification as I used him for my own pleasure.

He came again, simply from being fucked up the ass and the sound of my voice. He required nothing else but the pleasure of sex and _me_ being the one giving it to him.

I... don't recall much of the rest of that session. I felt him coming, heard his sweet cries of ecstasy and knew that Jack had come because I'm just _that_ good at fucking. I have this vague recollection of curling down over him, holding onto him as I began moving harder, faster....

My next clear memory of it all is coming back to himself, feeling myself trembling as I rested atop Spicer with my cock throbbing inside of him and that warm, wonderful ache of a really good orgasm.

I wasn't through with him, yet. I carefully pulled out of him and lifted him, settling him on his work table, and then crawled up beside him. We lay sprawled together on the surface, catching our breath, until Jack gasped and said, "Finnian! Uh, Fin, I don't know—“

"Your rat is not here," I informed him. "I sent him to his cage in your room before I interrupted your work."

"Oh," he said with evident relief.

"Why?" I asked. "Afraid he would mock you for allowing another man to fuck you? Afraid he would turn on you for begging me to fuck you?"

Spicer replied in the negative, but by then I was ready to go again. I startled him when I put him on his back and crawled between his thighs, my cock hard for him again.

"A-Already?!" he gasped, his eyes wide.

"Dragon," I said simply, and kissed him.

We kissed for a long time, until he pulled his mouth away and asked why I was not putting it in him. I told him I was waiting for his permission and _that_ rewarded me with Spicer's complete trust.

He gave me a filthy grin; lifted his legs and wrapped them around my hips as he reached down to pull me closer, inviting me inside him.

I pushed into him, kissing him through his soft groan of discomfort, and had him again on his table, this time face-to-face.

He arched up against me, his pottymouth running wild as he clawed and clutched at me, clearly delighting in the feel of me moving inside him even though he was not yet hard himself. I was surprised when, as I began moving faster as my climax approached, he suddenly went rigid beneath me, trembled, and then came again himself. There wasn't much fluid, as he'd already come twice, and he was only half-hard, but _still_... I am a sexual _GOD!_

I took my pleasure on Jack, coming hard and deep inside him, and then collapsed down beside him.

Sometime later, I felt up to moving us to a better locale. I used my own power to teleport us up to Spicer's room. However, I had to make a slight detour in my immediate plan of stripping us both naked and doing something perfectly, sexually filthy.

Finnian's cage is in Spicer's room – complete with Finnian.

Since Spicer doesn't have any lubricant (something I intend to fix), but I do, I decided I might as well make a trip home. I picked up Finnian's cage, teleported home, and set the rat and his cage in my personal parlor with the news going on the flatscreen TV so he can get caught up on anything he's missed.

Trust me: I know that animals are far more intelligent than they appear to be.

I retrieved my lubricant, and then returned to Spicer's room just in time to find him sitting up and looking around, wide-eyed with worry even as he instinctively began curling into a ball.

He was startled to see me again. I kissed him, stripped us both naked, and then took us into the bathroom for a shower so we could get clean of the oil I'd used in his lab.

No orgasm in the shower for either of us. We weren't ready yet and besides, there's nothing wrong with anticipation! Jack seemed stunned that I was allowing him to wash me. The look in his eyes as he watched his soapy hands guide a washcloth across my skin... he looked as though he were witnessing a miracle.

And to think I hadn't wanted to fuck him for a while longer!

Occasionally, even _I_ have moronic intentions.

We cleaned up (I used magic to clean him _inside_ again, which he claimed felt like having his innards tickled with a feather duster; strange, _strange_ boy) and then went back to bed. He used his robots to order food and drink for us. I refrained from the food, but we both drank lots of juice.

By the time we were done, I couldn't wait any longer.

I showed him _what_ I had gone back home for, told him that it would be beneficial to his backside to get a supply of his own, and then acquainted my tongue with his entire body.

Jack seemed hesitant to let me see him entirely nude. In particular, he seemed worried about the bruises decorating his body, though I can't think why. I liked looking at them. Though I don't particularly care for the reminder of how delicate he is, the purple and black and green of the contusions looked beautiful against his lovely white skin.

I have never seen skin so utterly _white_ as Spicer's before. I've met albinos in my time, certainly, but none of them were so startlingly _intensely_ albino as Jack is. Instead of palest peach skin, he has _white_ skin; so white and translucent that the gray shadows of his veins are visible. Instead of pink eyes, he has _red_ eyes.

You'd think, since he's albino, that he'd have _white_ or white-blond hair, but I discovered – this time around, yes, I was paying closer attention – that his pubic hair is the same color as his head hair.

HOW IN THE BLOOD-GUTTED PUS-SPEWING DEPTHS OF HELL CAN THAT RED HAIR BE NATURAL?!

Spicer is a conundrum right down to his coloration.

There's no confusion about what he _likes_ , though. We pleasured each other with our mouths again (oh, gods of evil, _YAY_ for that boy's tongue!) and then Jack let me inside of him again; another face-to-face round of sex.

I can still feel the faint scratch marks he left in my back. >=3

True, he was pulling and clawing with all his might, but that says a lot. For _Spicer_ to have left marks in _my_ skin...

Feel my smug! >=D

We managed one more round of sexing. Spicer learns _fast_ , I must say. I had been kneeling in the middle of his bed, leaning back on my hands, watching him suck me. Then, surprisingly, he pulled back. He gave me a naughty smile, and then turned gracefully and settled himself on his hands and knees. He looked back over his shoulder at me and rolled his hips in a slow, inviting motion.

I was on him – and in him – so fast that he screamed in surprise.

I rutted Jack for a long, long while; fucked him until he was boneless with lust and pleasure, sprawled beneath me on the bed, moving only to meet each of my thrusts with a jerk of his own hips, welcoming me into him.

I'm not sure which of us came first, but it doesn't matter: we both came hard, screaming each other's names.

Ah... dear me. I pull out of my reminiscing now to see that I have filled a 300-year-old ornate crystal ashtray with almost a dozen cigars.

Absolutely worth it, though.

The strange thing is that I cuddled Spicer afterwards. He started to make the move to do so, and then clearly thought better of it. However, I was pleased with him. He had serviced me _very_ well. Also, it helps there to _be_ a next time with Spicer if I give a little instead of take a lot.

He was very surprised when I pulled him to me for a cuddle.

It really isn't so much to give. A snuggle in bed, stroking his hair and his soft, smooth back while languishing in the warmth of a few orgasms... not that much to give.

He fell asleep against me, as I knew he would. I stayed with him a while longer, and then left him in his bed – the sheets and his skin stained with my essence.

I will return Finnian to him tomorrow, though I don't doubt fucking Spicer again will have to wait a few days for him to recover.

Unless I make do with his pretty little mouth. >=3

Hmmmm... no. On second thought, I will return Finnian tonight. Best to remove any temptation to use Spicer again for now. I want him fully recovered for our next round of fucking.


	49. Thursday, February 19, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 12 (the Third Arm Sash on loan to Spicer)  
Monks Annoyed: Yes, and it was HYSTERICALLY AMUSING. >=3  
Cupcakes Consumed: 37 (still hungry from yesterday’s sexing with Spicer)

What an amusing, entertaining day this has been!

Today, the Culver Crystal went active. I went to acquire it because – HELLO – an amulet made of crystal that creates extremely bright light...? Gee, why would I _not_ want those idiot monks to have that in their possession when going up against a _dragon?_

Honestly. Wuya actually asked why I was bothering. This from the witch that gets wet even when the really pathetic Shen-Gong-Wu activate.

Before the Culver Crystal went active, however, I checked in on Spicer. That's where part of my good mood comes from. I was watching him via the Eye Spy Orb. Jack was working on the Tech TAS when that song he danced to yesterday (the dance that had me wild to take him) came on. He stopped working, had Finnian taken upstairs, and then used the very same oil we'd used yesterday to masturbate with!

In other words: Spicer 'cheated on me' with his first lover – his _hand_.

Ha! I slay me. =D

All jokes aside, Jack is beautiful when he pleasures himself. He closed his eyes, so I could not see those lovely red irises darken with sexual fervor, but clearly he was stroking off to the memory of yesterday's interlude.

Considering he was whimpering and begging "me" to put it in and fuck him... oh, yes, indeed, he was.

Naturally, I responded to Jack's arousal. I masturbated while watching him do the same. It was _very_ good.

The Eye Spy Orb was not at all pleased when I came, because I did so all over _it_.

At any rate, that was a pleasantly relaxing jacking off ses—JACKING off?

Oh, my; a double entendre. As the LOLCATs would say: I has a clever!

Yes, Evil Everlords do _too_ read LOLCATs! Where do you _think_ Basement Cat came from?

Lords, gods, and minor deities... anyone reading this would think I'd lost my mind.

Not long after I finished masturbating and tidying up (as in: a grand total of four minutes, give or take a few seconds), and was just contemplating teleporting over to Spicer's to talk him into wrapping those pretty white lips around me, Wuya lets me know a SGW went active and that it was the Culver Crystal.

Cue Wuya's moment of stupidity.

The amusing and entertaining part of my day was what happened _at_ the Showdown.

I arrived just in time for the by-now-certain-to-be-had stand off against the monks. Why fight for victory when you can have petty posing and grandstanding?

At any rate, I noticed that Pedrosa and Tohomiko were cuddled up close together, but I made no mention of it. It was obvious to me that they _wanted_ me to make the first comment, so naturally, I ignored them.

Omi was the one who pointed out that they are now a couple again.

Pedrosa instantly began spewing some nonsense about how Good put him on the path to True Love again and Tohomiko helped him find the way and so he was now saved from my unnaturally, dirty, _evil_ influences and blah, blah, blah.

Just as he was winding up his ever-so-sanctimonious monologue, I casually lifted one finger to my mouth. I was wearing the GTC Gloves that Spicer had made me. While Pedrosa was making an ass of himself, I delicately licked the golden claw, curling my tongue _just so_.

He got hard so fast he nearly put Omi's eye out! >=D

Pedrosa burst into tears, Tohomiko had a flailing-shrieking tantrum, Omi was hiding behind the cowboy with a look of fear on his face, and Bailey had his face in his hands and was shaking his head.

Dojo was, presumably, under his hat so that left me free and clear to take the Culver Crystal and then teleport away, laughing like a madman.

A quick check on Spicer has revealed he has gone to bed. It is obvious that he is having difficulty falling asleep, yet more obvious that he is attempting to rearrange his sleeping schedule back to normal.

I might visit him if only to put him to sleep. I can quiet his mind with my power, allowing him to get some rest. After all, if he's well-rested, then he'll be ready and able to serve me when and if I drop in on him.


	50. Friday, February 20, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 12 (the Third Arm Sash is now returned to me)  
Monks Annoyed: Soon.  
Cupcakes Consumed: 5 (back down to a reasonable amount; v. good)

  
Today was a silly day.

I went to visit Spicer for a... what is it the young people call it these days? A "booty call?"

Whatever it is called, I went to Spicer for it. I arrived just as he'd finished the Tech Third Arm Sash, believe it or not.

We talked for a bit, casual pleasantries. I told him about what happened at the Showdown yesterday and he nearly laughed himself sick. Then, he showed me how the Tech TAS work (brilliant, really!). Once that was done, I thanked him for the 'private show' he gave me yesterday. He was surprised to realize I'd watched him masturbate, and despite the creepiness of being peeped on by an older man, it actually turned him on. I could smell his desire.

Naturally, I had no problem with teleporting us both to his room - specifically, to his bed. Literally, we reappeared already lying down with me on top of Jack.

I greatly enjoyed the simplicity of kissing and caressing for a long, long while. We removed clothing, a bit at a time, but with no great hurry. Considering he has the house all to himself – come to think of it, where IS his mother? – and I have no pressing engagements, we could conceivably stay in bed for weeks at a time.

Just as it was getting more intense, however, the little twit stopped me!

Jack: Chase, wait, we can’t.

Me: And _why_ not?

Jack: The last time…well, lemme put it this way: you gave it to me _good_ and I took it _all_.

My ego very nearly had an orgasm of its own. >=3

Still, I needed to correct the little fool. Young people... they forget so quickly. The first time we ever touched each other sexually, we made do with mouths and hands. We can easily make do that way again, and I proved it.

I said something inane, like, "Just because the rollercoaster’s broken doesn’t mean they shut down the whole amusement park."

Then, I put my mouth on him.

He liked it, if the filthy begging of "please yes fuck more fuck yes fuck Fuck FUCK!" were any indication.

Thankfully, he returned the favor, so I was spared having to beat some sense into him.

We cuddled again. I encouraged him to touch me. I want Spicer to be comfortable with me so he'll be eager to fuck me for a while longer, yet. Like most people, he is fascinated by my hair. I confess, it was pleasant to feel him playing with it. He took care not to pull on it; instead, stroked it and played carefully with it. Who knows...? He might someday be allowed to brush my hair if he continues treating it with such respect.

However, my attention was drawn away from him to the case sitting on the floor of his room.

The case of _lubricant_.

I couldn't help staring! The first three or four to meet my gaze were _GLOW-IN-THE-DARK_.

I am _not_ kidding! _Glow-in-the-Dark specialty lubricant!_

Spicer followed my gaze and started laughing uproariously.

I couldn't help it – I did, too.

Honestly... _Glow-in-the-Dark lubricant!_

Even as I write this, I can't help snickering to myself.

I shall have a great deal of fun being able to map where – and with what – I've touched Spicer in the dark. >=3

In other news, I shall be delivering the Fist of Tebigong to Jack tomorrow. Perhaps we can pleasure each other orally again.

In the meantime, I wonder if I'm coming down with a cold. While I was there, I could have sworn I smelled Spicer, but... off. As in, a little burnt...? Like he'd singed himself somehow, but I found no trace of it.

Feh. I'll worry about it when I start sneezing.


	51. Saturday, February 21, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: >=(  
Monks Annoyed: NO, GODS DAMMIT.  
Cupcakes Consumed: 100+ (v. bad day, just FUCK OFF about it!)

This has NOT been a...

Well.

Let me amend that thought. The _first_ part of my day was _disastrous_. The phrase "No Good, Horrible, Very Bad Day" very much applied to my morning.

The afternoon was a bit of all right!

I went to the Xiaolin Temple to acquire the Fist of Tebigong, as I promised Spicer I would do. I made my way onto the property, went to the Vault...

...and _there those rotten, sanctimonious little fuckers were!_

They accused me of returning to attempt seducing Pedrosa again. _What_ have those retarded little inbred monks been _smoking?_ I am _done_ with Pedrosa. No matter how loose and easily fuckable his ass is, I have no need of him - not when I have Jack Spicer, ready and willing to indulge my every little depravity with eagerness and appreciation!

At any rate, they ganged up on me. All four at once, with their increased elemental powers _plus_ a few Shen-Gong-Wu.

I was not in any mood for it.

I... left.

I refused the fight and left.

Me. Chase Young. _I_ backed down from the Xiaolin Monks! Not from fear or uncertainty, but just because I was too fucking _annoyed_ to deal with them!

I returned to my palace to attempt calming myself down. I sparred with my warriors, meditated, exercised... I barely had my temper held on 'livid' when I went to see Spicer to tell him I had not yet acquired the Fist of Tebigong.

I should have known better than to go near him. In that mood, I was spoiling for a fight. I should have gone back to the monks, given the results of their actions to them.

Instead, I remained in Spicer's presence.

He _is_ intelligent. He could see I was in a foul temper and moderated his behavior accordingly. He was properly deferential to me, said all the right things... up until he asked about the Fist of Tebigong.

I don't know _why_ I did it. I could have shouted, I could have thrown something... I did none of that.

Instead, I glared fury at him, caught hold of him, and took him back to _my_ home, _my_ bed.

I held him down and kissed him hard until I could taste his blood between us. I kissed him more and more, wanting more of that sweet, coppery taste. I stripped him naked, myself naked, and roughly and quickly prepared him with lubricant.

I scratched Spicer's delicate, white skin and sucked at the welts that rose up. I bruised him, I marked him, as I manhandled him across the mattress. I pulled his thighs open and fitted myself between them without finesse as I shoved my hard cock into him, taking what I wanted.

At no time did he tell me to stop. At no time did he protest or push me away. Spicer eagerly kissed me, pulled me to him, urged me to fuck him.

He squirmed against me, twisted up and I realized he wanted to be on top. I lay back, pulling him atop me, and Spicer sat up and began riding me. It took him a few moments, but he finally found the rhythm and soon, his slender white body was rocking and swaying above me as he fucked himself on my cock. Those normally bright, crimson eyes were now dark with delighted lust as he stared down at me. I said nothing; merely gripped his hips, scratching bloody welts into his skin, and fucked up into him.

We rutted closer and closer to orgasm and, as I normally do, I began moving harder and faster. However...

Hmph.

I do not like admitting this. The truth is that I was angry and annoyed and wanted to be violently rough. I fucked him harder than I ever had and Spicer... he asked me to be gentler.

I had him on his back before he could even blink. I clamped a clawed, scaled hand around his throat and glared at him through glowing red eyes. I snarled at him; demanded to know who he thought he was to command _me?!_

Even as I snarled at him, even as I choked him, I continued to fuck him; continued to rut between his white thighs and pleasure myself with the heat and tightness of his ass.

Spicer managed to get enough air to inform me he only wished me to be gentler on him so he wouldn't be too sore to take me inside him again tomorrow - or anytime soon, for that matter.

I paused and looked down at him. I saw only sincerity and I realized, to my shock, that I was on the verge of doing something truly horrendous to him.

I have never before raped anyone. I do not want to sink to such despicable depths.

To do such a thing to Spicer, who has only ever tried to please me... it was unthinkable.

My ire faded, but my frustration was still running high. I released his throat, smiled at him, and apologized for my terrible behavior. I teased him for his willingness to risk my temper if it meant getting fucked by me again.

Knowing his fondness for sex talk, I purred at him in my best bedroom voice, "Spicer, you gluttonous whore, if you are as intent on expressing your avarice for my cock and my come as you seem to be, then you shall have no trouble sucking my cock."

He froze, wide-eyed and shaking with arousal, and made some helpless squeak of sound.

Me: "I’m _not_ asking, Spicer."

He proved that he loves being sexually dominated by me when he agreed without hesitation to my plan. I pulled out of him; knelt in the middle of the bed and leaned back on my hands so I could watch him service my cock with his lips and tongue. He is not yet proficient enough at cocksucking to take me into his throat, but I will see to it that he learns.

Pedrosa did, after all, and fairly quickly at that. What a _slut_ that boy is...

Spicer, however, is no slouch. The glorious difference between him and that twerp of a monk is that Spicer wants me to enjoy sex. Not just sex with him (though I'm sure he's hoping I do!), but simply to enjoy the things he does to me. He is eager to touch me, to give me pleasure. He loves everything I do to him simply because it is _me_ doing it.

That is why I have no qualms about making certain Spicer thoroughly enjoys himself in return.

After Jack sucked me off, letting me come in his mouth (and swallowing! oh, that dirty, pretty boy...), I had slumped back to relax on the bed when I noticed him squirming in discomfort.

He hadn't come yet!

I fixed that.

I pulled him down to me; kissed deep into his mouth to taste the combination of cherry-flavored lubricant and my own come even as I stroked his erection.

Before he could come, however, I realized I was hard again.

He knew it, too, when I rolled up onto my knees and my pretty little fanboy lay back and spread his legs, reaching up for me and making the _prettiest_ whimpering, begging noises...

I thrust deep into him; kissed him as he twined his arms and legs around me, and then began fucking him. I thrust in hard, drew out slow, thrust in hard again... Jack made desperate, ragged sounds and rocked beneath me, trying to urge me to go faster, but I would not let him control the pace.

I moved inside him, hard and slow, until he was screaming and calling me filthy names even as he begged me to let him come... and so I did.

I braced myself over Jack and fucked him, hard, fast, harder and more until he shattered apart into a brilliant orgasm beneath me! I felt his blood-hot come against my skin, felt his ass clench tightly around me, and that was all I could stand. I fucked deep into him, held myself there as I _roared_ my lust and relief, coming hard inside him.

I remember falling away from him, breathing hard as if I'd just fought the battle of my life!

The next thing I know, I was waking up to find Spicer curled up a few inches away, clearly not certain about how welcome he was in a softer sense.

I pulled him to me, cuddled him... and then, told him all about those blasted monks.

He was, naturally, outraged on my behalf. However, a comment he made about their "reality-defying luck" made me think.

It wasn't until a little bit later, while he was using my bathroom to clean himself in, that I went to check on my collection of Shen-Gong-Wu.

My suspicions were correct. The Golden Horse Shoe had been turned upside down, setting the nature of the SGW to _Bad_ Luck.

I was – am! – furious. There is no way the GHS could have been switched around like that without help, which means Wuya did it. Had she _taken_ the GHS (and I'm surprised she did not take any of other 'Wu, to be honest), the Luck would have transferred to her. But, no... the conniving bitch let me keep the Luck - she just switched it from Good to Bad.

She is not currently in my palace, but we _will_ be having it out when she returns, as she surely will. I am a _powerful_ man. A Heylin lord, a dark sorcerer, a superb warrior and a Tai Chi Master... I am beautiful, dangerous, deadly, and strong. She craves me, even if she hates me. She will return.

For now, I have sent Spicer on his way home. When I dragged him back to my home, I took with me his own set of GTC Gloves. I gave them to him, allowing him to leave. He wanted to stay, but decided he'd better go if he wanted to be "functional" for me later.

Before he could set foot in the portal, however, I caught hold of him. I forced him to look at me and gave him my sincere gratitude for allowing me to take out my frustrations on him. I was... worried... that I had hurt him sexually; _abused_ him sexually, and I apologized just in case I had.

Spicer reassured me he was fine, that he hadn't suffered - in fact, he'd greatly enjoyed himself and liked it that I had gotten rough with him.

Me: "Still, Spicer, I appreciate that you put up with me in such a mood as I was in. For your trouble…"

I laid a kiss on him guaranteed to soothe over any hurts or insults he might have suffered from me. Not that I was suffering all that much while doing so. Kissing Spicer is a pleasure; one I like to indulge in as frequently as possible.

When I let go of him, he mumbled something and stumbled through the portal. The look on his face has me worried, though: He looked like a young man in love.

Bad idea. I'll certainly fuck him, but if he starts getting mushy, then he's gone the Way of the Pedrosa.


	52. Sunday, February 22, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 13 (the Fist of Tebigong on loan to Spicer)  
Monks Annoyed: Not today.  
Cupcakes Consumed: 10 (not good)

I am hugely confused.

I finally retrieved the Fist of Tebigong and took it to Spicer. I had him – first, up against a wall and there is something so perfect and dirty about rutting into another person while they are pinned helpless to a wall that pleases me immensely. Anyway, it started out with me fucking Jack up against a wall and then, when I noticed him wincing in discomfort (the skin of his back was being abraded more than he could comfortably tolerate), I moved us to the bed. It was hot and quick and satisfactory.

However, as I was making ready to leave (Wuya had returned and I needed to have it out with that wench), he invited me to come back any time.

I picked a fight.

I glared at Spicer and snarled that we are _not_ lovers and so do _not_ get ideas of that nature of any kind!

 _He_ was confused, so I let him know I _saw_ the look of love on his face yesterday as he was departing. What he said next absolutely floored me.

"I've _been_ in love with you since before we even started fucking, Chase. I have no intention of ruining whatever it is we have by getting stupid and trying to push you into some kind of relationship.”

Quite frankly, I did not believe him. I'm not certain I do now. All I know is that I challenged his statement, since he has never demanded a relationship from me.

Spicer said: "I'm not stupid. If I demanded a relationship, I wouldn't even get to _fuck_ you anymore: you'd get rid of me like you got rid of Rai when he started getting uppity and assuming he had any right to determine what kind of relationship beyond sex, if _any_ , you guys had. I get that I don't have a chance to be your...boyfriend or whatever you'd call it and I’m okay with that. I just want to maintain what we've got going. I won’t ask you for anything more than that.”

He curled his arms around my neck; began kissing me sweetly, seductively. He said he'd been in love with me all the times we've fucked, and that he's okay with a purely physical relationship.

I fled from him. I told him I had to think on it, and that I had Wuya to deal with, and then left him as swiftly as I could.

Wuya and I had a screaming row about how she was _not_ to touch my 'Wu. She shot back with caustic words about how everyone _but_ her was 'touching my Wu'. I quickly set a spell on the Shen-Gong-Wu in my possession that would melt whoever touched them _without_ my permission into a puddle of goo – a very slow, very painful melting.

I let her know that she would never again touch _any_ of my 'Wu and walked away.

I am not entirely certain why I am keeping her around. I haven't yet found a use for her and I must constantly defend myself from her antics. All I know is that I am waiting for something to happen in regards to her. I can sense it. I simply do not know what.

For now... I must think on Spicer and his pretty declaration of loving me and keeping it to himself. I do not want a relationship with him. I crave only the sexual delights of fucking his nubile young body.

Is the sex worth knowing that every time I touch him, he will feel _more_ than simple physical pleasure?

I must think on it.

And perhaps question him as to why I again smelled his scent, but as if he had been burnt.


	53. Monday, February 23, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 13 (the Fist of Tebigong on loan to Spicer)  
Monks Annoyed: I don’t know.  
Cupcakes Consumed: 37 (damn it)

Today was simply a day of meditation and trying to figure out _what the hell to do about Spicer_.

And think about having sex with Spicer.

I thought about that a lot.

*sigh*

Nothing is ever easy with him, is it?


	54. Tuesday, February 24, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 13 (the Fist of Tebigong on loan to Spicer)  
Monks Annoyed: Not today. >=(  
Cupcakes Consumed: 132 (v. bad)

I am almost certain I know what I shall decide in regards to Spicer.

The plain truth is that I _like_ fucking him. I like it _a lot_. There is also the fact that he is in love with me, yet willing to sacrifice his own dreams; his own hopes and wishes simply so that he can remain in my favor enough to ensure that I will continue fucking him.

There is a certain satisfaction in knowing that I am so desired that a brilliant, wealthy young man will lose all common sense and give up his own wants and needs just to keep me.

I'm not entirely sure, yet, but I'm mostly positive I will elect to continue fucking Spicer.

This decision comes not only from knowing myself fairly well, but from tonight, when I put Jack to bed.

I found myself bored and decided to check on the little twit via the Eye Spy Orb. I saw him standing at his work table in pathetic condition. Clearly, he had not slept in some time. Most likely he had not eaten anything, either. He was wobbling where he stood and, as I watched, proceeded to _fall asleep standing up_.

He was awake again by the time I teleported to his lab. He'd fallen over and smacked his face onto the work table. Spicer was writing in his Diary when I put my fingers to the back of his head and made him go to sleep with my magic.

I cannot have him useless to me. Stupid, silly boy.

I carried him upstairs (still smelling that burnt-Spicer odor as I went!) and put him to bed. I stripped him down to his boxer shorts and settled him on the mattress. Just as I went to cover him up, however, he rolled over in his sleep; clutched one of his pillows and nuzzled into it, murmuring my name! The motion of his turning caused his boxer shorts to twist and pull down over his hips and rump, just a little bit.

I am somewhat embarrassed to admit that I found my mouth watering as I stared down at that smooth, round white rump. I even entertained fantasies of having him while he slept – and I refuse to do such a thing, as he has not given me permission!

I was tempted – so _tempted!_ – to bend down and lick the curve of his hip, just for a taste of him. I did not, for I knew I would not stop there.

Instead, I covered him up and left him to his slumber. I fed Finnian, gave the rodent an ear scratch or two, and returned home so sexually frustrated that I had no choice but to make use of Wuya. I took her from behind so I would not have to look at her conniving, unattractive face. It was rough, quick, and barely satisfactory but at least my balls are no longer aching.

I need to meditate on this some more. I must be certain that Spicer and all of his baggage is what I want for now.


	55. Wednesday, February 25, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574 stupendously wonderful years!  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: A lot, and thank the gods for every one of them, as it brought Spicer and his Cupcake Mastery into my life!  
Monks Annoyed: Have no clue, do not care.  
Cupcakes Consumed: YES.

  
I can't decide: Kill Spicer or Kiss Spicer?

That _cretin_... he sent me a veritable gift bomb of cupcakes. Now, I already knew he could bake (and rather well at that), but I had no idea how _amazing_ the baked goods would taste.

Currently, I am a mess. I shall waddle my filthy, disgusting, bloated-with-cupcakes self off to the bath in a bit. First, I record for posterity just _why_ I should protect Jack Spicer at all costs and, perhaps, seek to find a way to make him immortal as well.

I came in my pants just from eating those cupcakes.

No, he did _not_ lace them with an aphrodisiac – they were _just that good_.

The little brat sent back the Fist of Tebigong, along with a note saying "Sorry I'm in love with you. You can has."

I had no time to figure out _why_ I was so annoyed at his declaration of being sorry he's in love with me. I smelled _sugar_.

Sugar and chocolate and honey... Now that I think about it, I was hard before I even opened the first box of cupcakes.

There were arrowroot glazed, butter cream, chocolate chip, ginger-apple, strawberry cream tea, red devil, even (oh, lords of evil, I'm drooling again!) tiramisu! _YES!_ Yes, indeed... _Italian trifle_ cupcakes!

I'm so glad this journal cannot take dictation, or the lustful moan I just let out at merely the _memory_ of those cupcakes would have been recorded.

I have managed to save a few of each kind of cupcake flavor so I may snack on them again. I'm certain that if I were to demand it of him, Spicer would make me batches of them every day, but if that happens, I will be six-hundred pounds of useless and completely vulnerable.

Actually, however... I ate all of a certain kind of cupcake.

The chocolatey ones that had no frosting, but instead had two ferociously posed jungle cats (tiger and leopard!) and two roses made of spun sugar.

Color me surprised, but Spicer knows the Language of Flowers! Dark pink roses mean gratitude, while coral roses mean desire.

In essence, he has thanked me for everything I've done for him as well as expressed his desire for me – as if the 10 dozen batches of cupcakes hadn't clued me in.

The little twerp need have no fear in that regards. As soon as I'm no longer bloated and lazy with sugar indulgence, I shall fuck him into a limp puddle of glee.

For now, however... perhaps just _one more_ butter cream cupcake?  <3


	56. Thursday, February 26, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574 _spectacular_ years!  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 13  
Monks Annoyed: Not by me, today.  
Cupcakes Consumed: ohgodsdon’tsaythatwordtomedon’teventhink

it

What a _spectacular_ day this has been!

I went to Spicer's to thank him for the marvelous cupcakes. I found him sucking on his finger, and decided to interrupt that particular process.

I put his finger in my mouth; licked and suckled on it, and was rewarded with Spicer's eyes going wide, his body rising up on his toes for a few brief moments, and then he shuddered fiercely and stumbled backwards, whimpering and shaking.

I had made him hard and made him come in only a minute or two!

Go, me!

I wasn't through with him, yet, however. Since Spicer has learned the value of keeping sexual lubricant stashed in convenient places, there was nothing to stop me from putting him up against a big, stable piece of machinery and having my way with him. I wasn't too thrilled with the fact he kept his sweater on, but he assured me it was necessary if I wanted to orgasm in my favorite position rather than needing to stop because his back had gotten marked up again. Seeing the wisdom in his words, I allowed him to keep his shirt on while I rutted between his legs, standing up. I love that position. I feel so powerful and dominant, yet naughty, when I fuck someone while standing up. They are helpless to do aught else but take my cock inside them while I fuck my way to orgasmic bliss.

Such was the case with Spicer. He was gasping, his eyes closed shut and his mouth wide open as he groaned and shrieked filthy, _filthy_ words of praise as my cock moved in and out of him. So hot, so _tight_... deciding to keep him as my sex toy is the best decision I ever made! I rutted on him, taking what I wanted while also kissing and stroking him to give him pleasure in return.

I waited – gods know how, but I did! – for him to come first, and then I thrust deep into him and came hard. Given that he was wincing and rubbing at his ears later, I think I may have shouted a bit too loud too close to him, but I do not care.

I had _sex!_ I had hot, dirty, glorious sex with an attractive person for the first time in days!

I'm going to have to acquire more cigars, soon. The one I'm smoking now is my third to last one.

We didn't stop there, though. Once Spicer had removed all of his clothing to keep from dying of heat stroke, I teleported us upstairs to his bed where I fucked him again and again and again.

He inadvertently stumbled onto a little trick I enjoy _a lot_. Jack was on his hands and knees with my cock buried deep inside him. Then, just as I paused for a moment to shift into a better kneeling stance, his hands slipped and he dipped forward. He caught himself and pushed back up, but a small cramp of discomfort in his hip made him roll his pelvis to ease the pain.

I _love it_ when my sex partner rolls their hips while I'm inside them!

After hearing the sound I made when he did that, Spicer decided he just _had_ to experiment with that bit of information. Slow and long, fast and short, hard and easy... he did them all and I struggled to control myself so we could both enjoy it.

When I could no longer withstand it, I held him still and fucked him, hard and fast, until we both came in a rush of pleasure.

I stayed with Jack for the rest of the day. We spent long hours indulging in sex. When we were too tired to do that, we simply curled up together in bed and talked about various things. One of them was my stance on how I was determined to handle our "relationship." I let Jack know that we would be having sex, but if he had any notions of calling me his 'boyfriend' or us going out on 'dates', then he had another think coming.

Spicer declared himself perfectly alright with that and proved it by kissing me for a long, long while. He's rather talented with his lips and tongue, and strangely, a good kisser. For someone who has hardly any social interaction skills, Jack has remarkable abilities at communication.

However, as we were kissing, that burnt-Spicer smell intruded again and I pointed it out to him. He held up the finger I'd interrupted him sucking on, showing me the burn he'd acquired. I partially healed it and put a band-aid around it. I want his fingers in tip-top condition, after all. >=3

After that, I decided I needed to get going. I was in the middle of getting dressed (hadn't yet gotten my armor back on), when he offered his cupcake skills to me again.

Me: _Don’t_ tempt me, Spicer. I doubt you’ll enjoy sex with me so much when my warrior-body becomes morbidly obese from your damnably delicious pastries!

Jack: *laughing* Don’t worry, I bet I would; just gimme a couple days to get into the ‘chubby-chaser’ mindset!

I pretended greater annoyance than I felt and pounced on him for a bit of play-wrestling. Considering that I could easily crush his bones to powder and his internal organs into bleeding chunks if I'm _serious_ , of course it was play-wrestling!

Then, that dirty little minx wrapped his legs around me while I had his arms pinned down to the mattress and began rolling his hips again.

In only a few short moments, I had my trousers open and once again I was sinking my hard cock into Jack Spicer. Given the dark, delicious growl of wanton lust that slipped his throat, and the way he pulled me closer, I'm going to assume he rather liked that.

I had him again, quick and dirty, there in his bed with him completely nude and me mostly clothed.

When it was done, I slowly slipped out of him, kissed his lax and panting mouth, and then forced myself to leave him. I didn't even bother getting dressed; simply gathered up my armor and left.

I phased into my home only to be greeted by Wuya, who couldn't seem to take her eyes off of my sex-sated organ.

I ignored whatever it was she wanted to talk about. The way she stared at me... so unclean! I had to bathe.

Come to think of it, I think I have to bathe again now, just thinking about it. EW.


	57. Friday, February 27, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 13  
Monks Annoyed: If they are, I don’t know about it.  
Cupcakes Consumed: Yes, damn it all.

  
Today was another mixed day.

It started out well. I went cigar shopping. A long time ago, I used to prefer doing my shopping "in country” – support my native homeland and blah, blah, blah.

I got a little pissy when the Perpetual Smog Blanket began accumulating over Hong Kong, and everything got so... less-than-organic.

Ever since then, I began branching out and purchasing my luxury items from other places. My cigars – naturally – come from Cuba.

I decided today would be the day to go get a new supply while Spicer slept off our antics from yesterday, so I put on civilian clothing, gathered up some money (Spicer would laugh if he knew I kept gold coins in mass quantities; he'd probably make jokes about dragons and treasure hoards and then I'd just have to kill him), and away I went.

I purchased several dozen cases of cigars (I have the feeling I'm going to be smoking more in the coming days) from my preferred vendor. As per usual, he would deliver them to a secret location. I would go to that location and then teleport myself and the cigars home.

Then, as it was a nice day (warm! no snow! thank the gods!), I took a stroll through the local tourist areas, but closer to the merchants' corner; the less-respectable areas, I guess you could say. I'm evil, after all - I'm not above purchasing illegal items.

I went where I willed, chewing on raw sugarcane, careful to mind the splinters. Delicious! I was approached by several streetwalkers, male and female, but that happens every time I go there. I'm like candy to them.

I purchased quite a bit of fine coffee and then, on a whim, went to one of the tropical fruit merchants and bought him out of his entire stock - particularly the bananas and plantains. I'm sure Spicer knows of several things he can do with bananas and plantains.

All-in-all, it was a good day out.

Then, I made the foolish mistake of collecting everything I bought and going home.

Wuya has been... creepy, today. Stalkerish, even. Like Spicer, before he began maturing.

She followed me all over my palace. No matter where I went, there she was. She kept talking about how we could make such a powerful couple if only we _were_ a couple and _speaking_ of _coupling_....

The slutty witch was throwing out pheromones like they were free candy.

In the end, I resorted to a rather childish tactic.

I ran away and hid myself.

Currently, I am in my bedroom (which she cannot get into, thanks to numerous spells and wards), curled up amid my blankets with a book to read and the last of the cupcakes from Spicer. Even though I'm overdosing on the sugar and feeling a bit nauseous, I can't stop eating them!

I'll take Spicer's fruit to him tomorrow.

For now... I am in my happy place and here I shall remain for the time being.


	58. Saturday, February 28, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 13  
Monks Annoyed: *shrug*  
Cupcakes Consumed: None today, thank the gods!

And so ends the last day of February.

With me puking my guts up into Spicer's toilet and the surprising discovery that he makes a fairly decent nursemaid.

Wuya disappeared to the-gods-alone-know-where this morning, which meant I could enjoy a leisurely bath, a leisurely breakfast, and then a not-so-leisurely round of Spicer.

After exercises and sparring, I went to visit Spicer, who claimed he had a surprise for me. To my eternal shock, the surprise was deep-throating me!

I was so... stunned. I remember gaping down at Jack, on his knees with my cock deep in his throat, and fighting back the sudden and terrible, enraged urge to snap his neck for somehow learning how to do this thing without me teaching him.

Fortunately, I did not give in to that urge and instead let him bring me to climax with his superb oral skill.

Afterwards, as I stood on trembling legs and he licked my come from the corners of his mouth, I reached down and dug my fingers deep into his hair and gripped tight. Jack winced and looked up at me nervously as I purred down at him, "And just _where_ did you learn that lovely, dirty little trick, Spicer?"

"B-B-Banana," he stammered back at me, obediently not moving a muscle against the grip in his hair.

I was startled, as I had just now brought the fruit I had purchased, but had not yet given to him. He rather pounced on me, told me he had a surprise, and then went down on me.

Turns out that Spicer had spent all day yesterday learning how to deep throat simply because he thought it would please me.

I am very, _very_ pleased!  >=3

I got him off with lots of kissing and a handjob, and then finally presented his fruit to him.

We spent most of the day together, having more sex (with Jack demonstrating his new skill quite a few times!) and sometimes just lying at ease and talking about nothing.

I will admit to being fascinated. At one point, we were in bed and simply talking when all of a sudden, Spicer _stopped_ talking and just stared into space at nothing! I thought he was suffering a seizure of some kind and was about to take him to a hospital when he abruptly rolls over, fumbles a notepad and pen out of the drawer of his nightstand, and begins scribbling formulaic equations and diagrams.

He'd gotten an idea for a new device (which I haven't found out the purpose of, yet)! I watched him as he worked; so intent on copying it all down and figuring it out to the last detail. I could _see_ that super-brain at work behind his red eyes and it was... frightening and amazing all at once.

The scribbling session lasted for roughly twenty minutes or so. Then, Jack simply stopped and fell asleep.

He does the same thing after an intense round of sex with me so I'm wondering if I should be flattered or insulted.

I put everything away, but I did not mention it when he woke up again. I wanted him to pay attention to _me_ , not whatever it was his brain had come up with.

We had more sex. I simply cannot get _enough_ due to this sexual phase I'm experiencing, but thank the gods Jack doesn't mind! This time, I was once again on my back while he rode my cock. I thrust up into him as he rocked down onto me, and then he'd slide up-up-up until I was almost out of him - no, no, Do Not Want! - and then he'd slide back down again, grinding onto me and rolling his hips. I loved seeing his hips and thighs flex as he worked himself up and down my cock. There is nothing lovelier than a beautiful young man (or woman) behaving so lustfully simply because they love the person they're having sex with.

I wonder how much more beautiful I would appear to Spicer if I were foolish enough to love him.

When it was over, Spicer had a meal sent up to us. We had pizza. Not that I mind; pizza is rather delicious. He seemed shocked that I would actually eat it.

We talked more. I promised him the Orb of Tornami would arrive either tomorrow or the day after.

We talked some _more_ , and thus we arrive at how I barfed into Spicer's toilet.

I brought up again what a naughty, wonderful surprise it had been that he'd learned how to deep throat just for me.

Jack: Glad you like it. I spent some time on the internet, lookin' at porn videos. There are a few things I wouldn't mind tryin', but some are just _flat out_ , _God_ that's just _wrong--_

Me: Like what?

Jack: *hesitant look* Welllll... I dunno. I mean, you've been around a while. Some of this stuff you probably _invented_ , for fuck's sake, but not the _really_ gross stuff. Actually, I'm pretty sure one of 'em was invented by the Germans--

Me: _What_ was?

Jack: *mumble*

Me: *showing a touch more annoyance* WHAT?

Jack: Louisiana Hot-Pocket!

Me: That doesn't sound German. What--?

Jack: It's when a man shits in a woman's vagina and then fucks her.

Cue the Magic Disappearing Dragon-Lord - directly into Spicer's bathroom, where I barfed up the pizza I'd eaten.

*sigh* What a horrible thing to display to him that I have a vulnerability insofar as such things are concerned. Still, I was surprised by the cool, damp cloth across the back of my neck; him holding my vomit-flecked hair back, and rubbing my back as he crooned, "It's okay... it's totally gross, it made me sick to my stomach, too..."

He cleaned my hair and brought me back to bed when I was done; tucked me in and rubbed my back some more.

I made him promise on pain of death to _never_ mention anything of that nature ever again.

I napped with Jack for a while. Woke up, and despite my squeamishness earlier, was still horny and fucked him again.

And now, I am home and wondering just where in the hells Wuya disappeared to.


	59. Sunday, March 1, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 13 (you’d think the monks would have noticed by now they’re missing a few…)  
Monks Annoyed: Not recently.  
Cupcakes Consumed: 78 (out with the old, in with the new!)

I feel I am completely justified in moving Spicer into my abode, considering that I could barely wait for him to wake up in order to have sex with him. I woke up in the early morning hours, aroused, but decided I could wait for a little while.

I managed two hours, and then I went to Spicer.

I was settled over him, tense, ready... _staring_ down at him intently, willing him to wake up... No, I did _not_ do so with my magic, but it's a known fact that someone will know they are being stared at even when they are asleep. It's part of the subliminal extra sensory perception that has allowed the human race to not only survive, but flourish.

Jack woke up in due course. He barely had time to say "Hi" before I had him stripped naked and a few oiled fingers stretching him in preparation while I kissed him luxuriously. He was barely ready enough when I decided enough was enough, pushed his thighs farther apart, and thrust my hard cock roughly into him. Spicer cried out; arched into the length of me and pulled me closer, and that was that. No lush, unhurried morning sex for us – I fucked into him in short, sharp, powerful strokes while he shuddered and gasped and held on for the ride.

I think I like that the most about Spicer. While he does appreciate it when I give him ample foreplay, taking my time, he is equally at ease with being taken in a quick, selfish rut with hardly any warning. I'm fairly certain that if I wanted to, I could bend him over the nearest surface and use him to achieve an orgasm, and then leave him be until I decide to give him one in return.

I won't do that, though. Nothing hurts a man more than delayed release, colloquially known as "blue balls." When that happens, it feels as though our testicles are trying to eat us alive from the inside out. I would rather propose my undying love and my hand in marriage to Wuya OR Bean OR both than suffer through that experience.

At any rate, I surprised Jack with just _how_ flexible I am. I fucked him hard and fast, until I came. Then, when I got my breath back, I carefully moved into a kneeling stance between his legs so that I remained inside him. He was still hard, still wild for orgasm... and when he saw me curl down toward him, with my cock still inside him but my mouth open, he began babbling.

I closed my mouth around Jack's erection; slipped my tongue over the soft, hot skin and sucked, and that was the end. He came hard, flooding my mouth with come while his own mouth shrieked and babbled mindless praise.

I drank it all and then stretched forward to give him a deep kiss, sharing the taste of himself with him. I love the way he sucked on my tongue – so dirty, so _hot_....

*sigh* I'm going to have to wake him up in a few moments just from remembering this morning's interlude.

Which brings me back to what I started out with: I have built a lab in my palace for Spicer to use. He has a room directly across the hall from mine. I want him near me so I may have cupcakes and sex whenever I want.

I've already put in an order for cupcakes (I left the flavor choice up to him, though I'm secretly hoping for the tiramisu flavor!). Now, I believe, is time for sex.

Gods, but I love that all I needs must do is walk across the hall. That quickly, I shall be sinking myself into the gloriously tight heat of Spicer's perfect ass.


	60. Monday, March 2, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 13  
Monks Annoyed: Not yet.  
Cupcakes Consumed: 1 (extenuating circumstances prevail – such as needing to fuck Spicer as ‘thank you’ for a job well done!)

  
I do so _love_ my Cuban cigars. They taste _so_ good!

Today has been a day filled with sex (naturally), cupcakes (naturally), and playing with new toys (not so naturally).

It turns out that the thing Spicer had drawn the schematics for while in bed a few days ago had been for what he calls the Thing-Finder. A less than elegant name, but it lets a person know precisely what it's to be used for.

So far today, I've found my favorite pair of fuzzy pink slippers (Wuya had been using them, _ew_ ), my inlaid-with-gems-puzzle-box I'd won from a sultan 500-years-ago, my dog-eared and well-worn copy of the book _Spite, Malice & Revenge_, and every missing sock I've ever lost.

Spicer has outdone himself on the cupcakes. He's made me five batches of Italian Tiramisu Cupcakes and then, when I hinted rather strongly that I fancy brandy butter cream cupcakes and had yet to find a decent batch of them, he pulled on a T-shirt and boxers (we'd just finished a round of sex), put Finnian in his hair, and off the two of them went to the kitchen.

I already knew they were going to be delicious when he let me lick the bowl clean of the brandy butter cream frosting, but when I first bit into one...

Gods damn it, I'm drooling again.

My reaction at the time was to express my pleasure in a _different_ manner.

Let's see... I think, today, I've fucked Spicer at least eight times, if not ten. After my journal entry last night, I went to his room. He's unused to his new locale, so he woke up as soon as I opened the door. I made small talk with him, and then pounced him flat to the bed and had my dirty, wicked way with him. >=3

The fun part of it was that he'd been anticipating my late night visit! The little brat had put lubricant under his pillow... and it was the Glow-in-the-Dark type!

I was highly amused when our sexing was finished. His ass was glowing like a nuclear strike in a diamond mine! So was his cock, and his nipples, and my hand prints were clearly visible on both of his hips where I'd gripped him as I'd fucked him from behind.

I love that he's such a _fun_ , easy slut for me.

Pedrosa, talented as he is, was rather perfunctory and all about getting to the end sooner rather than later.

Spicer doesn't know it, but I used some of the glowing lubricant to write 'Property of Chase Young' at the small of his back.

I left him to sleep after that and let him sleep through the morning as well. Jack got up around noon and I waited for him to make another two batches of cupcakes, and then had him over the flour-covered table.

What _is it_ about bending him over a table, and grinding and thrusting into him while listening to him moan and beg for his pleasure, that I like so much? Particularly the bent-over part? It's almost as good as taking him up against a wall.

After the flour-romp, I teleported us back to _my_ room for yet more sex. When we weren't fucking, we talked. He asked me if I had any favorite fantasies. I do, indeed! I wish to tie him to my bed so that he is helpless to do nothing else but accept the sexual pleasure I give him (with his permission, of course; I am not a disgusting pervert). I also rather like the idea of covering his nubile young body with various delicious substances and licking them off of him. Chocolate and honey spring to mind. Honey Dust is another favorite. It is this delicate, flavored powder that can be dusted onto someone's skin. Then, licking commences! I would like to do this to Spicer.

Another favorite is blindfolding him. I think he would like that quite a lot – especially with being tied up.

I also confessed that I'd come close, a couple of times, to making use of him while he slept but did not, as that was pushing extremely close to rape. He gave me permission, but I chose to eschew it entirely. As I told Spicer, if I wanted to fuck a lifeless shell, I'd fuck Wuya.

Jack: Didn't you used to do that?

Me: Only because you had not yet grown up.

Jack: What about Rai?

Me: What about him? I made do until I found someone worthy of my cock.

It was at that point that Spicer let out a squeal reminiscent of a 13-year-old girl. To make up for it, he deep throated me – not that I'm complaining. I fucked his mouth and throat luxuriously and, when I'd finished, I watched him swallow and lick the corners of his mouth clean.

I have another fantasy – one Spicer doesn't know about just yet, but I'm not entirely certain how receptive he would be to it. I have proven my flexibility, but that doesn't mean "sucking while fucking" is very comfortable. I would like to use sex toys with him, such as a dildo, while I go down on him. I think he would like it, but everyone has their limits. I have yet to find his, but that doesn't mean he does not have them.

Mmmm... just the thought of it has me in the mood to drag him into that nice, big bathroom attached to his bedchamber for some fun in the nice, big bathtub.

In fact... I think I shall. >=3


	61. Tuesday, March 3, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 14  
Monks Annoyed: One is, definitely. Four of them probably will be soon.  
Cupcakes Consumed: A few.

  
I am...

I don't know how I am, to be honest.

Today was an eventful day. I had breakfast with Spicer (he came to the table wearing my shirt that I'd left in his room and the hickeys I'd left on him), gave him the Orb of Tornami, and when I checked on him five hours later, he was already done! Examination, blue-prints... everything.

Then, I tied him up, blindfolded him, Honey Dusted him, and fucked him.

For a little while. Then, Guan - that Master _Ass_ \- interrupted us. I fought him up through my palace, outside, and then literally kicked him off the mountain. Spicer, who'd followed and watched it all, came just from seeing me trounce Guan.

So, naturally, I pounced on Spicer to slake my battle lust on him and he...

He screamed: "Fuck me like a dragon!"

I haven't seen him since. I left him alone and I'm here, in my room, trying to figure this out.

What does he mean by that? He cannot _possibly_ mean for me to take him in my monster form. It is an _ugly_ beast, and terribly dangerous. It's a stunted, misshapen _dragon_.

On the other hand, I cannot assume this to be a juvenile prank. He has wanted my benevolent attention and consideration for far too long to play such a stupid prank on me now.

He _can't_ be joking.

He can't be _serious_.

Take him in my hideous monster form?

No. _No_. I could rip him apart in the throes of climax. Does the foolish boy not understand what it _means_ to be a monster?

No, of course not. How could he?

I don't know what to think. I don't know what to do.


	62. Wednesday, March 4, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 14 (the Eye of Dashi on loan to Spicer)  
Monks Annoyed: We’re _mutually_ annoyed.  >=(  
Cupcakes Consumed: Several dozen (v. bad)

  
Spicer is quixotic in that he is rashly unpredictable.

I never know what he's going to pull out of his oddly-wired brain. All I know is that it is bound to give me a headache.

After a night of little to no sleep, I could not take it any longer. I woke him up early in the morning and demanded to know what he meant by begging me to fuck him in dragon form.

It turns out that he considers that hideous form to be something beautiful; so fell and dark as to be ultimately perfect and lovely. He says it is the same for him as looking at my human body – no matter what skin I am wearing, I am Chase Young and I am, in his eyes, beautiful and perfect.

I think I'm going to have to do random drug checks on him.

Still, Jack’s words pleased me enough that I was willing to ease my pent-up lust with him, though I said I was not ready to even attempt doing so in my dragon body. I might not ever be, despite telling him that perhaps in a few years we could try it (a subtle admission that I now like him well enough to keep him around that long, but he seemed not to notice it). It is simply too _dangerous_ for someone so soft and easily damaged as Spicer is. I do not mean that in a derogatory way; it is only the truth. His skin and his eyesight... his lack of eating properly and exercising... he is soft and frail.

The awareness of it, that I could so easily destroy him or damage him to the point of uselessness was still prevalent in my mind as I took him.

Our fucking, from the beginning has been fast and rough, flavored with kinky. This time, I was slower; thrust in on a smooth glide and pressed deep, held it, and slowly withdrew again. It was lush, unhurried – a gloriously sensual moment.

When it was over, and Spicer was sticky and stained with my leavings, I kissed him and then departed in order to get him the next Shen-Gong-Wu. I returned just after he’d cleaned and dressed himself, gave him the Eye of Dashi, and then sent him on his way to the lab.

While he worked on that project, I decided to meditate.

Naturally, I was rudely interrupted by the arrival of the Xiaolin monks, who were come to seek vengeance for the beating I dealt Guan.

The battle was ferocious and loud, so of course it drew Spicer up from his lab. Considering that Pedrosa tried to kill Jack when the idiot merely _suspected_ I was fucking Spicer, I decided on the spot that I could not risk the monks finding out about Jack’s new status in my life.

Me: Spicer, this is _no_ time for one of your half-witted attempts to ingratiate yourself into my good graces!

Jack: *catching on fast, pleads* But, _Chase_ …!

Me: I’ve no time for your nonsense! Leave!

Putting on a sad and mopey face, Spicer used his GTC gloves (he keeps them on him at all times; smart boy!) and left immediately.

The battle continued and I was victorious. However, I could _see_ the jealous rage in Pedrosa’s pretty green eyes; felt his fury in every assault he launched at me. It was… arousing, to say the least. Still, because of Pedrosa’s anger and suspicion, I have been forced to tell Spicer to remain at his parents’ home for now. I will not risk harm to my current favorite, who services me quite well indeed.

I’m just glad I got to fuck him at least _once_ today before I was forced to send him away.

This situation will last for only a few days; just long enough to keep Pedrosa from being more of a pest than usual.

It’s a shame that he has such a knee-jerk reaction to the thought of Spicer being my whore. I would dearly love a threesome between us. If it happened… I can’t decide what I like best: Me fucking Spicer as he sucks on Pedrosa’s cock, or me fucking Pedrosa as he fucks Spicer.

 _Damn_ that hot-headed Brazilian twerp! I would love nothing more right now than to fuck Spicer’s tight, hot ass – and _can’t_ because of that foolhardy monk!

Hopefully, this will not last beyond a few days, or I’ll be making use of Wuya.

If she ever shows her face again.

Where the devil has that witch gotten to?


	63. Thursday, March 5, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 14 (the Eye of Dashi on loan to Spicer)  
Monks Annoyed: Pouting like children, as always.  
Cupcakes Consumed: 17 (v. bad; eating has replaced fucking and I’m not happy)

I've changed my mind. If I can have a threesome between myself, Spicer, and another person, it would have to be Jack's newfound illegitimate brother.

Lords of Evil, but that young man is _hot_ \- pun not intended.

I mention that because apparently, Francis Stone (first born son by Martin Spicer) came into contact with a highly toxic gas that altered his body chemistry and gave him conjuration and control of fire. Like the Dragon of Fire and myself, young Mr. Stone can generate flames and shape them to his will. On top of that, he is a tall, lean young man who _obviously_ takes care of his body. He exercises regularly and has muscled arms bigger than my own! He has the same red hair (in nearly the same style) as Jack, thus proving beyond a shadow of a doubt that it is natural. I would not have believed it if I hadn't seen the living proof. That, and similar facial features, are the only traits the half-brothers share.

Stone is bigger, stronger, meaner, and has super powers.

Spicer is built small (except for _one_ highly important part of him!), whipcord lean, has _pure white skin_ , and red eyes. He is also in possession of a frighteningly powerful intellect that can create things beyond the scope of my imagination, and it came to him naturally.

I think, all in all, if I had to choose _one_ of them... I would take Spicer. He is different enough from me to make sex with him interesting. Fucking another powerful, dangerous, foul-tempered fire conjurer would be the same as me parking myself in front of a mirror and jerking off while talking dirty to my reflection.

But a threesome would be fantastic. Spicer Twins! I wonder if Stone would allow temporary magic that would turn his skin snow white and his eyes red....

Damn Pedrosa again. Just damn him.


	64. Friday, March 6, 4707

Years Lived: If I don’t have sex soon, I may not make it to 1,575.  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139 (and NONE of them are allowed to fuck until I get some!)  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: Damn you, monks! You couldn’t have created Blow-Up Doll Shen-Gong-Wu?!  
Monks Annoyed: NOT NEARLY ENOUGH.  
Cupcakes Consumed: 0 (can’t focus beyond the need to fuck someone!)

Going to see Spicer tomorrow. Wuya showed up again, finally, and even _she_ is starting to look highly desirable.

No. Just _no_.

Want pretty young man with tight ass, not ugly old woman with loose pussy!

Going to see Spicer tomorrow. If Pedrosa shows up to interfere, I will _KILL HIM HORRIBLY_.


	65. Saturday, March 7, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 14 (the Eye of Dashi on loan to Spicer)  
Monks Annoyed: At least one.  
Cupcakes Consumed: 3 (and by “cupcakes,” I mean cigars. >=3 )

I'm on my third cigar as I write this. >=3

So! I went to Spicer's place early this morning as I had said I would. I waited until 7 AM, which I consider to be particularly generous on my part, although the cranky growling and petulant whining as Jack came awake let it be known he thought otherwise.

Right up until he saw _me_. Those pretty red eyes lit up and he squeaked my name... honestly, how could I have resisted that, even if I had any intention of doing so?

I kissed him hard, stripped him naked, and had him oiled and ready before he could really comprehend anything. Seriously: He had this shocked look on his face when he realized he had four of my fingers up his backside three minutes after waking up to find me in bed with him.

He asked me: "Have you had _any_ since you threw me out?"

In answer, I pulled my fingers out of him and replaced them with my very hard cock. He shuddered and gasped, arching up against me, and muttered, "Guess not!"

Then, there were no more words as I sated myself on his nubile young body.

I had him four times before I finally calmed down enough to just lay beside him instead of caressing him in preparation for the next round.

I was also coherent enough to ask _why_ the bed was, in fact, a cot down in his basement. He tried to hide the existence of his half-brother for a bit - not outright lying, but more like obfuscation, in that he is not giving me the entire truth but he's not doing it by lying.

I put a stop to his rambling by saying: "So it isn't because your new sibling has intimidated you?"

He went rigid beside me and I smirked and said, "Yes, Spicer, I know about young Mr. Stone. I checked in on you a couple of times. My, my... the Spicer red hair, the facial features, and the voice. Your father has been rather _busy_."

Jack: "I'm gonna have him _castrated_ , swear to _fucking_ God--"

Me: "That's nice. So... how do you feel about threesomes?"

And thus it was that I opened a can of irritated worms.

Spicer let it be known that he has no urge whatsoever to do a threesome _ever_ in his lifetime. Mid-rant, he stops and gets a strange look on his face, and then suddenly scrambles off of the cot.

"Damn it! God _damn_ it, it isn't fair! We both get the red hair and the face and the fucking _voice_ , but he gets every _fucking_ thing I ever wanted! A hot body, a mean streak a mile wide, NO FUCKING ALBINISM, and now, _you_."

There is something strange in that I find Spicer's jealousy cute whereas Pedrosa's is annoying. I _think_ it is because Pedrosa was trying to keep me as a possession, whereas Spicer is jealous of the fact that he _cannot_ control or contain me, and his very-much-more-handsome brother is directly in my line of sight and knowledge and there is _nothing_ he can do to keep me from throwing him away to pick up with _Francis_ instead.

In short, Jack is not trying to capture or possess me, whereas Pedrosa was.

Still, I could see that Spicer was working himself up into a panic attack that would not end well for either of us. I used magic to haul him back to me. I wrapped my arms around him and then teleported us up to his bedroom.

He fought me like a wild thing! Jack thrashed and rolled and hurled cuss words at me like knives as I pinned him down on the mattress.

When he finally stopped, panting and wet-eyed, I said to him, "You are panicking over nothing, Spicer. You have said no to threesomes. Therefore, that means I must choose between one of you—“

"He has a boyfriend!" Jack yelled at me. "Some geek of his own back in wherever the fuck he hails from!"

I gripped Spicer's wrists a little tighter and felt him harden against me even as he gasped and winced with pain.

"If you're _quite_ finished," I growled at him, "you saying no to threesomes means I must choose between the two of you. I choose _you_ , Jack Spicer."

He blinked and stared up at me for a long moment. Then, his lips wrinkled, his chin quivered, his eyes closed...

...and he let out a loud, honking bray of laughter directly into my face.

Apparently, I'd said something that reminded him of one of his favorite cartoon shows... Pokémon? He chortled something about a Pokéball and "Gotta Catch 'Em All!" and... oh, my head. It hurts just remembering it.

I let go of him and rolled off him in disgust; simply stared up at the ceiling and waited for the snorting and giggling to stop. When it finally did, Jack rolled over and hesitantly settled his head and a hand on my chest, and one leg over mine.

"Really me?" he asked me shyly, and I very nearly pounced on him to do something naughty.

"Really you," I told him, petting his hair.

"Why?"

"You are not a strong, foul-tempered fire user. Fucking you is not like fucking a carbon copy of myself."

He let out a little sigh, but said nothing.

I sighed, too, and petted him again. "Jack... if I were to try to seduce your brother—“

" _Half_ -brother," he muttered at me petulantly.

"—half-brother, then I would constantly have to fight to keep him submissive to me. He would constantly be trying to top me. I do not want to be topped. I prefer to be the one doing the penetrating. That is why I prefer you, Spicer. You are perfectly submissive to me, and I appreciate that."

He growled and pouted a bit, but subsided when I petted his hair some more. Apparently, he really likes having his hair played with.

"Too bad about the no-to-threesomes," I mused out loud. "I had this plan for having Spicer Twins. I was going to ask Stone if he would let me use my magic to temporarily turn his skin pure white and his eyes red..."

I'd barely finished the sentence when suddenly, Jack was all over me; kissing and nipping and sucking... not that I was complaining, mind. >=3

It is only now that I realize that I would have changed Stone's coloring to match _Spicer's_ instead of the other way around. I inadvertently gave Jack a _huge_ compliment when I did that, but it seems natural to me that I would want white skin and red eyes. Such different and unique coloring... so very pretty, and I have always been a man to appreciate and covet pretty things.

Spicer rewarded me for the compliment, however, by doing salaciously indecent things to me. He deep-throated me, caressed me, seduced me... gave himself to me utterly.

We spent hours making a mess of his bed, wrinkling the blankets and staining the sheets.

At one point, Stone pounded on the door to Jack's bedroom and howled through the door for us to keep it down. I replied by thrusting deep into Jack and rolling my own hips, which resulted in an ear-piercing shriek of pleasure as Spicer came hard on my cock.

I spent the entire morning and part of the afternoon with Jack, easing my sexual frustration. Unfortunately, it is not yet safe for him to return to the palace and once again take up residence there. Only yesterday did I catch a glimpse of Pedrosa circling the mountain on a gust of wind, obviously spying on me.

I shall simply have to visit Spicer again when I'm sure it's safe. Maybe next time, I'll tie him bent over his work table. >=3


	66. Sunday, March 8, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139 (it will be 140 if Stone does anything to Jack)  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 14 (the Eye of Dashi on loan to Spicer)  
Monks Annoyed: Definitely Pedrosa. >=3  
Cupcakes Consumed: 3 (v. good)

Another day of sneaking off to Jack's house to have sex with him. Honestly, I wonder why I bothered moving him in if I only had to send him away for his safety.

Then again, considering that Pedrosa stopped lurking and actually came to see me, offering himself to me in lieu of Spicer (he hasn't seen anything concrete; he is only guessing at this point), it's probably best that Spicer remain away for now, even if it does inconvenience me.

Still, I must admit I enjoyed Pedrosa's shameless attempt at seduction. I even went so far as to allow him to straddle my lap on the throne; let him rub himself against me (of course I was hard; no sex for _hours!_ ). I never made a move to touch him, never kissed him and would not allow him to kiss me. Instead, I watched as he became more and more frantic in his attempts to seduce me. He rubbed and stroked against me, moving as seductively as he knew how... and rather than entice me to have sex with him, he instead came in his own pants.

I waited for him to get his breath back, and then said calmly, "If you are finished, Pedrosa, you may see yourself out now. Or I can have my warriors do it for you...?"

I snapped my fingers and, naturally, a dozen of my warriors-turned-tigers-or-something-else appeared as if out of nowhere, circling us and growling.

Pedrosa scowled at me and fled, chased by the cats.

Of course, after that arousing little display, I wanted to fuck. I swear, Wuya must have found a new perfume or something to make her leak pheromones. Ever since she returned, I have been even _more_ randy than usual, and she keeps making herself available. Urgh.

I went to see Spicer and within minutes of waking him up, I was sinking into his hot, tight ass. No matter how many times we've fucked by now, his backside remains perfectly tight around my cock. I love that; I really do. Pedrosa's quickly loosened and stayed that way. I'm certain that he has returned to normal by now (unless he got Bailey to fuck him) and would once again be tight around me if I were to fuck him, but why bother when I have that dirty, luscious albino eager and ready for me? Jack welcomed me into him; curled his arms around me, kissed me, and began rolling his hips so sinuously that it should be illegal.

Soon, I had to hold him still so I could take my pleasure on him, fucking into him hard and fast. Jack being Jack, he was making plenty of noise, which once again brought Stone to the door to complain. I responded by levering up on my knees, pulling Jack's hips up onto my lap (he's so _flexible!_ ), and pounded into him. Jack came screaming my name, spilling all over himself.

Beautiful. Utterly beautiful.

Of course, I wasn't finished with him yet. I pulled out, flipped him onto his hands and knees, and thrust back inside. I rode him hard, fast, and came the same way, filling his insides with my essence. I love coming inside of him. Every time, it seems almost that I'm defiling something sacred. I don't know why; it is only the snow-white ass of a horny, desperately easy teenage boy. But it still feels amazingly wrong.

In the best evil way, though. >=3

Jack and I spent another hour in bed, fucking, and then I had to leave. However, I made the mistake of entering Spicer's bathroom (which he'd disappeared into so he could clean up) and found him still naked, leaning over the countertop of the sink to inspect his teeth in the mirror.

I ended up taking him from behind, the both of us staring at each other via the mirror until Spicer came all over the floor and I once again "defiled" him.

That turned me on so much that I _stayed_ hard, and put him up against the bathroom door (his skin protected by a robe that hung there) and fucked him yet again. He was too worn out to come again, but he urged me to do so anyway – not that I have a problem with that.

Afterwards, I tucked him into bed with his backside still damp and tender from our fucking, and left him alone for a while.

Several hours later, after dinner, I returned for yet more sex (Note to Self: Make Wuya _stop_ with the pheromones; damn her for using this dragonish sex phase against me!) and was met by a frantic Spicer who proceeded to tell me all about how his half-brother had read his journal, found out about the SGW and his plans for them, and threatened him with fire and pain unless Spicer cut him in on the profit plans.

I almost laughed myself into a hernia, I was so amused.

What is that old adage? "The more things change, the more they stay the same." I've had 1,500 years in which to verify the truth of it, but Jack is the living proof of it. Despite finally starting the maturation process, despite winning my favor and becoming my sexual favorite, he is so easily cowed it is disgusting.

Given that he fought me so desperately only yesterday and called me horrible, vicious names, I'd have thought he was finally growing a spine, but apparently not.

So, now Jack has no choice but to split the profits from his eventually marketing plans to share his SGW-based technology with the public. Stone went easy on him; demanded only 40% of the profits instead of making _Jack_ take the 40%. I think Stone realized that would have shocked Jack out of being intimidated and actually fight back. Somewhere in that red and gold-striped hair-covered head is the subtle awareness that it is probably _not_ a good idea to fuck with someone who can create technological weapons that can blow you across a valley and into a mountainside.

Just because Jack hasn't done it _yet_ doesn't mean he can't do it, given enough motivation.

When Jack pleaded for me to intervene and make Stone back off, I refused him on the basis that Jack needs to learn how to "man up" as the saying goes nowadays and that this will be a bonding exercise that will help the brothers learn how to work together despite any sibling rivalry they might have.

After I fucked Spicer into exhaustion (I could tell he wanted desperately to say no because I had refused helping him) and was pleasantly mellowed from a few orgasms, I went in search of Stone.

I found him in the gaming room, playing some stupid game that required guns and cars and thugs. I introduced myself to him via the simple expedient of turning off the equipment with a wave of my hand and putting myself directly in his line of sight.

He remained on the sofa, not even bothering to get up. He tried to "play it cool," like so _what_ if a man in armor with pointed ears, slit-pupil gold eyes, and fangs happens to show up?

He can't fool me. He can't fool a _dragon_.

I could _smell_ his fear.

Stone hasn't yet met my dragon form or seen even a fraction of my power, but he can sense me for the monster I am. All humans can. Some primitive instinct deep in the human brain wakes up in my presence and lets the owner of said brain know that I can deal death and harm to them if I choose to.

Stone sensed it and he was so frightened he almost peed himself.

He really _is_ a Spicer!  >=D

At any rate, I introduced myself and let it be known that I would not interfere with the Spicer brothers up to a _point_. That point stopped at the instant Jack suffered deliberate physical injury from anything Stone did to him. If _that_ happens...

I did not go into explicit detail. I simply told him that I would see him _soon_ if my favorite sex toy suffered deliberate injury.

Then, I vanished back to my palace, leaving Stone alone to think it through. It might take him a while. He is possessed of average intelligence. He is not a complete moron, but he is not an intellectual individual.

Honestly, I'm surprised he isn't afraid of Jack, considering how much more powerful Spicer's brain is compared to Stone's.

Then again, Jack _did_ mention that Stone has a "geek of his own" in his former locale. I shall have to investigate so I know precisely what I am dealing with.


	67. Monday, March 9, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 14 (the Eye of Dashi on loan to Spicer)  
Monks Annoyed: Probably, but do I care? No.  
Cupcakes Consumed: 4 (v. good, but I’m rationing them)

  
Tomorrow is the day Spicer returns to the palace. I’ve had just about enough of the inconvenience of needing to go to his house when I am in the mood to fuck (which, lately, is _every second of the day_ ) instead of simply walking down a flight of stairs to get to him. True, I can teleport, but it’s the principle of the thing.

I told him as much when I went to him this morning. As I had my cock nestled deep inside him and was minutely thrusting my hips in tiny rocking motions while kissing and sucking on his neck, I informed him that he would be coming back to the palace tomorrow. I want him there, knowing that all I needs must do is walk across the hall to get to him in the middle of the night. Besides, last night I had this fantastic dream of taking him in my garden. I dreamt I had him on the thick carpet of soft green grass while the perfume of the exotic flowers filled the air, mingling with the smell of sex.

Yes. Yes, definitely, tomorrow, that will happen.

I let Spicer know I had humiliated Pedrosa and he would be staying away – but not how I’d done it. No matter what Spicer says about being okay with being nothing more than my favorite sex toy, the boy _is_ in love with me. I don’t think he’d react well to knowing how close I came to fucking Pedrosa yesterday. Certainly, I can (and will) if I want to, but Spicer might react negatively. He might not throw a temper tantrum, but it is possible he will withdraw from me, and I am not inclined to stop using him as my current bed partner; for now, anyway.

At any rate, when I arrived at his home, Spicer begged me to sound-proof his room magically so his brother would not be annoyed, to which I agreed. I am getting rather tired of Stone interrupting us simply because he’s frustrated at not having any sex of his own, being so far away from his lover.

I have done some investigating. Francis Stone used to be the leader of a gang of thugs in a town named Dakota. He was on site during an accident called “The Big Bang” which released an experimental mutagen in gaseous form. He gained the ability of pyrokinesis. To this date, he can fly, shape fire into other objects, create fire-barriers, and is strong enough to aid in the ‘resurrection’ of a boy turned to stone by misuse of the experimental gas.

His lover is a blond teenaged boy by the name of Richard ‘Richie’ Foley. Foley, when playing at being a ‘superhero’, goes by the name of Gear. His exposure to the gas was gleaned by contact with other “Bang Babies,” namely his best friend; a black teenager by the name of Virgil Hawkins/Static. Foley’s power is super-intelligence. His current IQ, from a public contest he entered, is 205, which at least puts him in Spicer’s league – if at the bottom level of it.

I find myself in turns amused, fascinated, and worried at how the power of Spicer’s mind. His IQ (he told me) is 312. It is likely to go higher as he matures. And it comes to him naturally! That is simply the way he was born!

Getting back to Stone: Apparently, the authorities in Dakota ordered scientists to create an antidote to the mutagen gas. The Bang Babies began losing their powers and reverting to normal. Stone and his erstwhile comrade, a shadow-teleporter named Ebon, ended up in a fight over the last canister of the mutagen gas in an attempt to recreate the Bang Babies. The two of them became fused into one giant shadowy flame-throwing monster. How they were separated, I do not know. Suffice it to say, Stone needed to flee the authorities and he made use of his knowledge of Martin Spicer’s shady dealings to gain help, thus his arrival here in China and into Jack’s life.

It’s a good thing he’s here, actually. Spicer is determined to turn the Eye of Dashi into a personal weapon for himself _and_ a renewable energy source that will make fossil fuels obsolete. When that happens, he is going to be filthy rich (independent of his parents), but he is also going to gain many enemies – especially from the Middle Eastern people, whose economies rely almost entirely on the oil their land produces. Stone has proposed to Jack that having him involved as a “partner” means keeping Jack safe. It is more to do with the fact that Jack can make Stone rich, but there is some brotherly sense of responsibility in there, too.

I can understand that, actually. Dashi despised the choices I made, but he still loved me even after I turned to evil. No doubt, wherever his spirit is, he still cares about me and worries for me – despite the harsh things I have said to his ghost since I killed him. I consider it a waste, but then again, what do I know? I’m only the “little brother.”

Still, I will use Spicer’s Thing-Finder in order to track down a not-yet-gone-active Shen-Gong-Wu. It is called The Cultivator. It looks precisely like a Shaolin Monk Spade, but its sole purpose is to revive dead or dying land and turn it into a farmer’s paradise. I will find that SGW and give it to Spicer to study. That way, he will be able to pacify the Middle Easterners by giving them technological creations that can turn their desert hell-holes into lush farmland. They’ll be so busy learning a new way of life they won’t have time to try assassinating Jack.

I have a month or so, at least, in which to get this done. Spicer told me he is not planning on marketing it until his 18th birthday, which occurs April 1st. Yes, I know… April Fool’s Day. Spicer must have pissed off a deity in a past life or three.

In other news, Katnappé has contacted me. She is confident that she can easily clone the dragons without losing any of their magical properties that makes them the focal point of the Lao Mang Lone soup. I need only acquire scales and bits of skin and hair for her, and she can get started on it.

I think I shall work on that tomorrow, after I spend the morning fucking Spicer in the garden.


	68. Tuesday, March 10, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 14 (Spicer brought the Eye of Dashi back with him)  
Monks Annoyed: YES. >=D  
Cupcakes Consumed: 0 (no time, too busy fucking)

What a _glorious_ day this has been!

As promised, I brought Spicer home to the palace. I had him immediately in the garden. I flattened him into the lilies, crushing them to uselessness, but I do not _care_. Spicer was back where he belonged! In my territory, beneath me, servicing me however I wished from him!

I wished quite a bit. >=3

By the time we were done, his back, heels, and shoulders were grass-stained and his hair smelled like lilies. He was thoroughly defiled, with my essence dripping out of him and his white skin soft and damp as he panted desperately for air. I, too, was grass-stained and come-covered, and I felt truly relaxed for the first time in days.

I was so pleased that I pulled Spicer onto my lap for kissing and cuddles.

Which is when Pedrosa walked in on us.

It would seem the temperamental twit does not take a hint very well. He pitched a raging fit about how dare I cheat on him and blah, blah, blah.

I let him know there was no way I _could_ have cheated on him as we were not in a relationship; we had only used each other for sex, the same as Spicer and I did.

Spicer _also_ let him know that the only reason I was fucking _Jack_ and not Pedrosa was because of the temper tantrum Pedrosa had thrown – that, yes, it was all _Raimundo's_ fault this happened.

Before he could explode at us, I teleported him back to the temple and then tried to fuck Spicer again, but he said no and explained that if we waited and watched, we'd be given a hell of a show.

He was quite correct. >=3

Without even bothering to get dressed, I teleported us to my throne room. I sat on the throne, Jack sat on my lap, and I taught him how to activate the Eye Spy Orb with the proper command. We then watched as Pedrosa tried to rally the troops into coming here to "kick my ancient old ass up between my shoulder-blades" all because I had the sheer nerve to be fucking Spicer.

His fellow monks wanted to know why they should care and oh-by-the-way, isn't it supposedly a _good_ thing that I am now occupied with Spicer and _not_ molesting Pedrosa?

The little fool confessed that he _likes_ getting fucked by me! That he wants it again and again and again! He also confessed to stalking me in the hopes that would happen.

All of this earned him a three-week assignment to doing kitchen clean-up, which he _despises_ utterly.

Yet, like the _Good_ little sheep that he is, he slumped off to go do as he was told rather than refusing the punishment. Gah. And I had sex with that moron?

Well... actually, despite his idiocy, he _is_ a good fuck. Spicer, however, is just as good (if not better) and he makes it a point to not make any pretentious claims on me.

At any rate, we were so amused by all of this that we laughed for a long, _long_ time. When we began calming down, Jack rested his head against my chest and I stroked his hair as I said, "Seeing the spectacular results of one of my evil deeds, while sitting here on my throne with you in my lap, makes me feel like a wicked and supernatural king – and you are my loyal whore."

That beautiful, brilliant albino... he looked up at me and asked, "Isn't that what we are already?"

I made use of that immediately. I narrowed my eyes and growled, "If that is true, then you will get to your knees before me _now_ , Spicer, and pleasure me with your pretty little mouth."

Jack moved instantly; knelt down and curled his tongue around me and sucked me into his hot, wet mouth. He took his time giving me pleasure. He sucked and stroked with his lips and tongue, took me into his throat and swallowed. He focused entirely on sucking my cock until, finally, I couldn't take it anymore and came in his mouth.

I had planned to harvest bits and pieces of dragon parts today, but I was too pleased with Spicer to willingly part from him. Instead, I took him to bed and kept him there, making full use of my pretty little whore.

Tomorrow I will definitely go dragon-harvesting and take the bits to Katnappé. My supply of Lao Mang Lone soup is dropping to critical levels.

For now, I believe I will wake Spicer. I am hard again and want a slow, hard fuck.


	69. Wednesday, March 11, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 14  
Monks Annoyed: Don’t know, don’t care.  
Cupcakes Consumed: 2 (v. good)

  
As Spicer would say: "I has a conundrum."

I had breakfast with Spicer this morning (regular food-breakfast, not Jack-breakfast) and told him about the cloning project and that I would be out all day acquiring dragon parts. I highly encouraged him to go find something to do _outside_ of my home. When Jack gets bored, things get destroyed. Ergo: Jack goes to play somewhere else while Daddy Chase is away.

Oh, gods... I need alcohol for _that_ mental image!

Ahhhh... there we go. A large glass full of prime Cuban rum. Perfect.

I left Spicer to his own devices and went about gathering dragon bits. One would assume that would mean I was stalking, tackling, and yoinking dragons all day, but no. Dragons actually shed as much as cats do. All I needed to do was go to their beds or favorite non-human places to relax, and voilá! I had dragon scales, skin, and hair.

I took them to Katnappé who greeted me with one of her typical cat clichés. Gods damn that girl. There is something mentally wrong with her. I swear, if she sours me on cat ownership, I will turn her into a rug.

She told me of her plans for the project, none of which made sense to me. However, if I choose to, I'll tell them to Spicer. He can probably translate them for me.

It became very obvious while we spoke that she could sense my constant state of "ready to fuck at any moment." Pretty soon, I felt her pheromones tickling my nose and my arousal heightened. Despite the cat fetish, she _is_ a gorgeous young woman. A tiny waist, curvy hips, and breasts both firm and large, thanks to puberty. When I first met her, she was a flat-chested girl. Now, she is either close to or actually eighteen, and she has ‘blossomed’. I like blondes (I once wondered what Spicer would look like blond) and green eyes, so it isn't as if she's ugly to me.

Still, I never made a move toward her, never said a word about it. Katnappé began brushing against me; found any excuse she could to touch me. Her tail flicked and curled around me frequently.

It wasn't until she boldly pressed herself against me, curling her arms around my neck and purring at me, that I openly considered having her. She begged me to fuck her, saying my strong male scent was driving her wild. I held off until she was practically wild with the need of me. Then, as desperate as she was, I caught her in a promise that I magically bound her to.

1) No using my bodily fluids for _anything_ without my permission.

2) She will not ever tell Spicer about this – or any other – fucking.

She agreed, and the promise is binding so that she will lose all knowledge of how to make anything cat-like ever again if she breaks the oath. She was _not_ happy, but I did not care.

Naturally, I had her from behind. She crouched down on elbows and knees, her tail up (she used her biology science to _graft_ a jaguar's tail to her spine!) and to the side. She made several throaty noises as I fucked her, grinding my cock into her hot, wet pussy (no pun intended). I even bit the back of her neck to make it better for her. She seemed to appreciate it, near as I can tell, given how hard she came on my cock as it fucked in and out of her. I thrust in deep, held still, and let the rhythmic clenching of her inner muscles pull my climax from me.

I have always enjoyed coming inside of a woman. Ever since my first whore so many hundreds of years ago, when I realized that because I was no longer a monk that meant I no longer had to abide by their idiotic rule of celibacy. I think I spent an entire month in bed, fucking random women.

After coming inside of Katnappé, I pulled out of her slowly, smirking at her sensual shiver. I had no need to worry of impregnating her. I could smell the anti-fertility chemicals that she had consumed. I've smelled them before on other women.

Still, I wasn't quite ready to leave her just yet. It has been a while since I've had _good_ pussy; worth-my-time pussy. Wuya...? _HAH._ Katnappé is young and fresh and eager to fuck. Even though Wuya has been begging me constantly, the few times I've had her in the last couple of months, she has been as disappointingly lazy as ever.

I decided to get Katnappé receptive to me again, and so I licked her. Yes, even though she was filled with my come. I like the taste of myself mingled with another person.

The action seemed to shock her, because she tried to wriggle away, but I held her fast and continued licking. Soon enough, she was pushing backwards, riding my tongue and demanding more. I made her come, licked her to a frenzy again, and when she was ready, I once again thrust my cock into her from behind and fucked her while holding her down and biting her neck.

The second orgasm was just as satisfying as the first. I made sure she came, and then I did. Once again, I pulled out of her, but now I was sated enough to let her be, and watched with a smirk as my come trickled down the inside of her left thigh.

She offered to lick me clean, but I laughed and denied her. I do not want fangs anywhere near my cock. She pouted, but acquiesced, and let me go with a purring goodbye and an invitation to come back _any_ time.

I might take her up on it. As I said, it has been a _long_ time since I've had an eager young woman. Pussy that good is worth putting up with a few cat-phrases here and there.

And, if all else fails, I can turn her mute.

After I left Katnappé, I was feeling the need to be clean, but I wanted some time outdoors. I took myself off to Hawaii, to a hidden glade on one of the islands that has a waterfall. I'd have used one in China, but it's still cold-cold- _cold_ there despite the snow having stopped. I wonder if Negriss hasn't affected the weather somehow in his displeasure over being denied Finnian. I know Negriss is a Storm Naga, but still... the weather has been ridiculous lately!

I bathed myself in a warm waterfall and spent some time meditating. Afterwards, I dried off and went home...

...only to be greeted by the sight of Jack with a _much_ changed appearance!

Apparently, he has been holding back on the 'goth' quotient, for today, he was dressed in pants covered in buckles, straps, chains, and zippers. He also had on a fishnet sleeveless shirt, a spiked collar (leash fantasy coming _right_ up!), and had his goggles down around his neck, letting his hair hang down.

Seeing the change in wardrobe really brought to my attention the fact of how _tall_ Jack has become lately. He might even be taller than me someday. Tall, with a long, lean body....

I pounced him to the floor where he stood (his lab) and had him right there. I couldn't leave him be! He looked so dangerous and dark and... Oh, hells, I'm drooling again. >=(

I quickly had his pants down around his ankles and lubricated fingers stuffed up his backside. I kissed him and kissed him as I stretched him with my fingers—

—and paused, because I tasted Spicer, toothpaste, and _someone else_.

Excusemehello _what?!_

My whore has been out fucking someone _else?!_

I considered, for perhaps half of a second, calling him on it. I wanted to scream and roar and demand to know whom he let fuck him who wasn't _me_.

Then, I recalled I'd spent a good forty-five minutes buried balls deep inside Katnappé today, and decided against it.

Still, I was angry. Had Spicer not declared himself my _loyal_ whore? I have not given him permission to fuck anyone else, yet!

I was rough with him as I fucked him on the floor of his lab. I stared down into his wide, passion-glazed red eyes as I thrust hard into him, seeking to remind him who owned his ass. No matter who else he finds, he will _never_ get it as good as he gets it from _me_.

Apparently, he agrees, because he came screaming as if he'd been driven mad. He clutched and clawed at me, jerked his hips violently, and babbled mindless words of praise as he declared me the god of his world.

I growled "MINE!" as I fucked him full of my come.

Later, after I left him sleeping in his bed... I read his diary.

Oh, why the hell not? I'm _evil_ , after all.

Some boy named Allen merely kissed Spicer today and gave Jack his telephone number. He has not made any claim on Jack; only invited him to get together again sometime.

Jack, himself, has had an epiphany that he was too close to considering me his (*shudder*) _boyfriend_ and will work harder at reminding himself to _not_ follow in Pedrosa's foolhardy footsteps.

Still, it is... mollifying, in a way, that he feels as though he has done me wrong even in simply kissing this stranger. I am pleased enough with that that I shall spare Allen.

After all, when I finally tire of Spicer (and I'm certain I will eventually), Jack should have someone to fall back on so he can get over me as best he can.

For now, I think I will entertain myself alone in a bath to memories of fucking a pretty young woman for a change.


	70. Thursday, March 12, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 15 (the Jetbootsu on loan to Spicer)  
Monks Annoyed: *shrug*  
Cupcakes Consumed: 5 (meh… *hand-waggle*)

  
Yet another day of pure sex. Entirely with Spicer, this time.

Today, he went to the mansion to retrieve a prior project he was working on that is similar to the next SGW he shall study: the Jetbootsu. He was gone for quite a while, so I checked in on him – he was spending time with his big brother, who was apparently worried about him.

I went to the Xiaolin Temple and retrieved the Jetbootsu, and then returned only to find Spicer _still_ not home! I checked in on him again... and was witness to the most amazing display of gymnastics I have ever seen.

Spicer was playing on a DDR (I tried one once; it was simply too easy to do, while also making me flail around in motions reminiscent of an epileptic chicken) and rather than use conventional moves, he would bend backwards and do splits and leg stretches and...

I was growling almost demonically at the sight of him displaying such dexterity.

I'm going to go out on a limb and assume Mrs. Spicer put her son in yet another class designed to keep him busy as well as make social connection. Jack being Jack, he likely learned everything with determined focus in order to please his mother while eschewing any attempts at friendliness from other children.

Still, I could not wait to have him.

When he came home, I pounced on him immediately. I had him in bed bare seconds after he stepped through the wormhole!

We spent hours having sex and Jack displayed the limits of his flexibility for me alone. >=3

At some point, however, it came up that in the last month of fucking, we have not yet done the classic "69" position.

We remedied that. _Several_ times!  >=3

I was utterly exhausted by our physical exertions and thus, fell asleep with Spicer in my bed. Yes! I let him sleep in my bed. I would have let him remain there, but he chose to leave in the wee hours of the morning. I let him think I was asleep and he left quietly.

That's strange... I just wrote down "I would have let him remain there" and I... meant it.

How very odd.

Still, now that he's gone, I shall get back to sleep myself. I have the feeling that something exciting is going to happen soon.


	71. Friday, March 13, 4707

  
Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 15 (the Jetbootsu on loan to Spicer)  
Monks Annoyed: *laughs self into a hernia*  
Cupcakes Consumed: 43 (you would, too, if Wuya had… oh, gods. _Mental image_.)

So, today was Friday the 13th, and YES it proved it.

I thought it had started out decently enough. Spicer let me know over breakfast that he needed to return to his house again for something. I was feeling pissy at the thought that, perhaps, he was trying to wean himself from me.

Instead, he let me know he wanted to bring the DDR machine here to my palace.

I approved the decision, naturally.

Things started to go downhill when he returned with the machine _as well as_ his brother, who was apparently bored out of his mind. I let Spicer know that if Stone torched any of my things, his brother would be my new fireplace rug. Stone managed to behave himself.

However! From bad to worse, the MONKS showed up! It seems they _only just now_ noticed their SGW had gone missing.

*sigh* And I'm supposed to fear these people as agents of Good?

I have more to fear from a Spicer-modified toaster. The monks are predictable. A Spicer-toaster could do anything, up to and including popping out laser to toast _me_ for breakfast instead!

The monks had gone to Spicer's house first, since they naturally connected stolen SGW with him. When they did not find him there, they of course headed _here_ , since Pedrosa let his friends know that Jack and I are doing naughty-bad-fun things together.

The four simpletons then proceeded to verbally trash Spicer up one wall and down the other. They seemed to take great relish in hurling verbal abuse at him; almost as much as they enjoy _physically_ brutalizing him. They insulted him for stealing their SGW, but Jack quickly let them know it was _me_ who took them.

Thank you, Spicer. That is _really_ going to help.

Not!

Despite all this, Stone decided to intervene. Apparently, he has taken his role as "big brother" to heart. I don't know why, but it seems almost as if he is pleased to have a sibling. I can't tell if it is because Jack is a genius who will make Francis rich, or if it's because Francis simply wants to be someone's family.

I don't care, one way or the other, but I do like mysteries and puzzles.

Introductions were in order. Jack let his brother know that the monks are the "Good Guys" and I very nearly snorted laughter right then and there when Stone immediately called shenanigans.

Stone: Really? _They're_ the Good Guys? With the names they're throwing at the two of you, I'd have guessed _they're_ the Bad Guys!

There it is, then: Proof positive that the monks are seen as evildoers _even by complete strangers_.

Does this mean I'm destined to once again become a monk? Only... a _Heylin_ monk?

Lords of Evil, I hope not. Monks tend to do without sex and I can't seem to go one hour without it.

At any rate, I _did_ laugh myself silly when Tohomiko decided (since Francis is related to Jack, he would be an easy target) to _flambé a complete stranger_ simply because of who he is related to only for Stone to take control of her fire-conjuring and use it to knock her unconscious.

I laughed so hard I nearly had a nosebleed.

That's when Jack pulled out his matter-conversion device and the monks realized they were most likely going to get _killed_ by the brothers if they stuck around. They fled for safety and that was that.

Stone stayed for dinner – it was the least we could do, considering how amused we were at his trouncing of Tohomiko – and then he left.

 _THANK THE FUCKING GODS._

I had Spicer up against a wall before he could blink. I was growling about how I thought Stone (who had returned to the mansion via Jack's GTC Gloves) would _never_ leave. Very quickly, I had Jack's pants off and his ass lubricated and I was sinking my hard cock deep into him.

I'd been fantasizing all during dinner of Jack slinking under the table to suck me off while I talked with Stone; fantasized fucking Jack into a screaming orgasm as the table centerpiece; fantasized...

You name it, I thought about it.

I fucked Jack hard up against the wall, aware of very little else except the heat and tight around my cock. I know he clung to me, I know he was gasping and crying his pleasure, but I simply _did not fucking care_. I had been denied my _own_ pleasure long enough!

I fucked him until I could not resist any longer and then came hard inside him, howling my joy as I released. Then, because I was _still_ randy, I pulled Jack down off the wall and had him over the table. He came _that_ time, and then again before I allowed myself to come once more. Then, I sat in my chair at the table; he draped his legs over the arm rests and rode my cock lewdly, rolling his hips in greedy, wanton delight until we both came again.

After that, Jack confessed his exhaustion and so I used magic to clean him for once and took him upstairs to tuck him into bed.

I was still so wild, though... Wuya was available, naturally, but I couldn't stomach the thought of using her. Therefore, while Spicer slept, I took myself over to visit Katnappé and made use of her for a few hours.

Gods, the joy of fucking a hot, wet, eager pussy...!

If I thought I had half a chance of making her a loyal whore, too, she'd be joining Spicer among the ranks.

I was just lucky that the little queen was in heat and wanted to be fucked. She's clawed my armor quite deeply; I shall have to mend it before Spicer sees it. Still, it was so hot to feel slender legs wrapped around my hips as I plunged deep into a female sheath. I can't imagine why I never thought to fuck her before.

She let me have her nearly ten times, and then she was done with me. I was still able to continue, but decided I might as well head home, where Friday the 13th reared its head for the final time.

Wuya pounced on me as soon as I teleported into the mountain. She kissed me while twining herself around me and, gods help me, ground herself against my crotch despite it being covered in the armor skirting.

I couldn't help it. I responded, as she knew I would.

I threw her to the floor and ripped our clothing apart and fucked her violently to climax.

She's definitely limping today, but _damn_ that witch...!

Urgh. So unclean!

I've bathed at least five times. I think... I think only a fuck or two with Spicer can wash away the mental shivers.


	72. Saturday, March 14, 4707

Years Lived: Sex-thousand, five-hundred seventy-four.  
Warriors, Cat-formed: One-hundred thirty-sex.  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: Sexteen (Sexbootsu on loan to Spicer)  
Monks Annoyed: Sex.  
Cupcakes Consumed: Yes (with a side order of sex)

Sex.

Sex, sex, sex.

Breakfast in the garden consisting of cupcakes, tea, and Spicer.

Sex.

Sex, sex.

Sex, sex, sex.

Sex, sex, sex, sex....

Ad infinitum.

We passed out sometime in the afternoon. I invited him to sleep with me, mainly so he won't wake me up by leaving, but it made Spicer happy.

Not that I care.

Still very tired, but still very horny, too. Sex? Or sleep?

...Just came back from Spicer's room. He's so out of it, he didn't wake up no matter how hard I shook him.

Sleep, it is.


	73. Sunday, March 15, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 15 (the Jetbootsu on loan to Spicer)  
Monks Annoyed: Probably.  
Cupcakes Consumed: 8 (meh.)

Spicer is growing his Evil Plumage!

He displayed two very particular instances of being torturously evil. The first was while we were having sex at some point today. He was doing what he called a "Reverse Cowgirl" even though he is not a cow or a girl (yet, somehow, the memory of seeing him declare "That makes me queen!" inevitably surfaces, here). It involved riding me, only he was facing my feet instead of my head.

He kept mentioning St. Patrick's Day, and how he wanted to go out and celebrate it with me except it was definitely _not_ a date and blah, blah, blah. I finally clued in as to what he was after when, after every time I refused to give him an answer, he slowed down to the point of stopping. Desperate to keep him moving on my cock, I finally _gave_ him an answer.

 _NO._ Capital N, capital O, NO. No, no, NO.

Not in any way do I want to go out with him and watch him get piss-blind-roaring _drunk_ just because he feels obligated to being _one-quarter_ Irish.

That's when the rotten little bitch intimated he was going to change his mind about having sex with me and oh-by-the-way, that if he did that in mid-fuck it still counts as rape?

Nothing turns my stomach more than rape and Spicer _knows_ it.

I was completely frozen in horror for a few moments and I kept glaring at the back of his head, envisioning _tearing it off_ for a second or two. Then, he clenched and rolled around me, just a little bit, and I relented because I love fucking his ass too much to give it up just yet.

So. I've agreed to go out clubbing with him on St. Patrick's Day. I'd say the only thing that would be good about it is that alcohol might make Spicer easy, except he's already such a slut ( _my_ slut!) that I could probably get him to blow me and then let me fuck him there in whatever club we'll be going to.

.......Now that I think about it, that isn't such a bad thing.  >=3

Still, I made the rotten fucker pay for it with such rough sex that his backside will be sore for _days_. Every time Jack sits down, he'll be reminded that getting his own way was dearly bought.

After I came inside him for the last time, without waiting for him to come, I smacked his ass and sent him down to make me some more cupcakes. My dirty slut-boy not only agreed, he sucked me into his mouth and deep-throated me for a few moments before scampering away to do as ordered.

I think it was because I called him a "good little whore." Spicer does love the dirty talk. I think he particularly likes being _my_ whore. I'm not certain he'd be as accepting of the term from anyone else. From me, it's fine, because he wants to please me and keep my favor so much it's almost a palpable presence. Anyone else who tried it would surely get a fight.

Take Wuya for example.

Jack decided to visit a punishment of his own on her for daring to accost me the other evening. He used one of his biowar creations to infect her with Yellow Fever. She showed up during dinner; a stinking, sweating, shivering wreck of a witch and _demanded_ he fix her.

Spicer surprised her and me both when he confidently sat back in his chair and denied her, especially because she spoke down to him and demanded he make her all better instead of courting his favor. He also let her know how close to death she was, so if she would like to continue being so disrespectful to him...........

Wuya changed her tune very fast. She hasn't been spending as much time with him as I have. She hasn't really gotten to see the changes in Spicer until now. _Now_ , she was down on her hands and knees so fast, begging him (literally begging him!) to give her the vaccine, that it was comical.

Jack decided that being forced to beg for _his_ help in front of _me_ was humiliating enough, and so he gave her the vaccine. I belittled her for being so easily beaten and then praised Jack for his cunning deviousness while Wuya slunk away like a whipped cur.

I was so pleased that I halted our dinner in order to drag him to bed to praise him in a _different_ way instead.  >=3

Not that he minded. He was too sore to take me inside him (the rough sexing earlier and then another fuck in order to motivate him into finishing the Jetbootsu), but he seems to like 69 well enough.

So... it seems that since he completed quite a bit of the Jetbootsu project today, I must now not only take him out for drinks on St. Patrick's Day, but I must also work at _enjoying_ the experience.

Lords of Evil... I can see the migraine coming from here.


	74. Monday, March 16, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139 (although, if Katnappé were mine, I’d count it as 140; “near as” makes no difference, right?)  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 15 (Spicer is now finished with the Jetbootsu)  
Monks Annoyed: I wouldn’t doubt it.  
Cupcakes Consumed: 0 (too busy stuffing my face with actual food, Spicer, and Katnappé)

What a day!

It started off with Spicer sneaking into my room before I had woken up naturally. He startled me awake with a blowjob – and nearly got himself killed. Does the fool boy not know to _not_ startle a dangerous warrior out of a sound sleep?

Still, I suppose I've become accustomed to his presence enough by now because I had this brief instinctual urge of _KILL!_ and then, I just _knew_ it was Spicer and let out a gratified moan at the feel of his hot, wet mouth around my prick.

I pulled the covers off and he pulled away from me. Then, he said to me: "Does a morning of fellatio not please you, my dark lord?”

Corny. _Very_ , very corny. Cheesy, even!

Yet, I loved that he wanted to appeal to my status as a Heylin lord - and _his_ lord in particular!

Of course, I allowed him to continue and he skillfully brought me to climax with his hands and mouth.

Jack let me know he was too sore for anything at the moment, but I had plans to give him pleasure later, even if only with my mouth. I informed him I would be meditating and then exercising/sparring with my warriors, but I would prefer it if he would finish with the Jetbootsu sooner rather than later. I don't care that he finds no challenge in it. I want that project done so we can keep the process rolling.

When I had finished the morning's exercises, I made my way to the kitchen to scrounge up something to eat. I'm always hungry after I spar. I found a meat-laden omelet waiting for me! Spicer had decided to make me a five-egg omelet with sausage, bacon, ground hamburger, and cheese.

I let him know that even if we stop fucking, he's sticking around as my personal chef. By the hairy balls of Guan Yu (no, it is _not_ the Guan I grew up with who eventually came to be an eternal pain in my ass)! Spicer can _cook_. I wonder why he insisted on nothing but pudding cups and junk food if he can cook so well!

MMMMmmmmm... I took one bite and thought I would have an orgasm right there in my own kitchen. Superb!

After breakfast, Spicer went down to his lab and I went to my room to bathe and then took myself over to Katnappé's place to see how the cloning project is going.

It's going well. She had asked to examine the Lao Mang Lone itself. I let her have one of the empty cans that had tiny bits of it clinging to the metal. She's isolated and picked apart everything that goes into it, and is now focusing on precisely _what_ parts of the dragon are necessary. I had thought that the creature's soul was what did it, since I gave up mine and I have to keep functioning _somehow_ , but apparently that isn't it. Or, rather, that isn't _all_ of it.

What happens when a dragon dies is that not all of the magic and soul of the creature is sealed inside its mystic pearl. When it dies, there's a brief burst as the creature's power expands beyond the body. I have noticed this myself, but I had never thought anything of it. When the power retracts and seals itself into the pearl, parts of the magic and soul (she said to think of it as the stuff left behind after sifting sand or flour) is caught by and soaks into the dead flesh. _That_ is the part I've been consuming. She's trying to find a better, easier way to refine it simply because it is a challenge for her.

Katnappé expressed her pleasure with being given such a wonderful puzzle to play with by crouching down before me and licking my cock. I wouldn't let her put her mouth around me, but she licked and lapped at me for a very long time – not that she minds, as she did so in a very feline way.

She prefers the "from behind while biting the back of her neck" position best of all, and so I had her that way first. I fucked her slick, wet, tight pussy and made her come screaming (or yowling, as the case may be). Then, I rolled her over and ripped her cat-suit open to expose her pretty breasts. I nuzzled the soft flesh and then sucked on her hard little nipples as I plunged in and out of her wet sheath until, finally, I spent myself in a glut of ecstasy, filling her with my come.

I stayed with her for a few hours, indulging myself in fucking her. It's very strange, but I felt almost like I was cheating on Spicer with her, which is absurd, as I am not at all in love with him and we have no relationship beyond that of Heylin Lord and Loyal Whore. I allowed myself the fantasy of it, however, as "cheating" is a sexual thrill for me. I like the thought of doing emotional harm to someone by fucking another. I gain psychological and physical satisfaction from the thought that I'm shattering someone in such a mean and vicious way.

If Spicer and I were in a real relationship, I'd probably go fuck Pedrosa's ass within days of binding myself to Spicer just for the thrill of being naughty.

It's all speculation. I shall never have a relationship with him beyond that of Dragon-lord and Courtesan, so what do I care? Besides, it's not as if Spicer would have any say in it, anyway. Even if we were bound, my power and status alone dictates that I can fuck whomever I want, whenever I want, up to and including fucking them right in front of him!

I probably wouldn't, though, as it would mean I'd have to put up with him sulking for days, and the boy can _sulk_. I've seen it personally. Gods, you've never heard such whining.

At any rate, before I left the cat-freak, I had her up against a wall. As much as I like doing Spicer in that position, I think I prefer Katnappé (or any pretty young woman) there more. There's something so delicious in the sensation of hot, wet cunt sliding down around my prick that I just can't get over.

Mmmmm... lovely memory. I might have to go visit her again in a few moments, seeing as Spicer is currently sleeping.

So, yes, anyway... I fucked her up against the wall and she – well, to be honest, she wouldn't stop speaking in cat phrases and terms, which frankly pissed me off. I may have to start ball-gagging her just to shut her up. I made her come quickly, as she stops talking when she does, and achieved my climax soon after that.

Then, I left her in a boneless, breathless heap on the floor and took myself back to my palace.

I cleaned myself in my bathroom and then went in search of Spicer. I discovered he'd brought his large flatscreen television from his home to mine, and was eating potato chips while watching some stupid cartoon show.

Jack proceeded to insult and outrage me by stating his lustful appreciation for a _cartoon character_ because said character was: A) magical, B) pretty, C) a lord, and D) evil.

Basically, so long as any creature met those four criteria, Jack would let them have his ass as their fucktoy.

In one short minute, he let me know that I am entirely interchangeable with anyone out there capable of meeting his four requirements for desirability.

 _Me_. _Chase Young_ – interchangeable with anyone capable of being magical, pretty, a lord, and evil.

He has no idea how close he came to dying in that moment.

I hated him so much that I was very nearly ready to rip his head from his body and then rip his body into bloody chunks.

Instead, I turned the TV off and tackled him flat to his bed. I ripped his _clothing_ away and proceeded to remind the arrogant little puke _who_ currently owned his lily-white backside. Jack being Jack, he welcomed me eagerly, even though he was still sore from the _last_ time he pissed me off! I didn't care then, however, and I don't care now. I fucked him hard to remind him who he was dealing with. Still... I did not forget who _I_ was dealing with, either. Jack Spicer, a terrifyingly brilliant young man who was budding into his evil nature, but had professed himself in love with me. I fucked him hard, yes, but I made sure he _liked_ it.

After he came screaming my name and I marked him with my essence (as well as lots of scratches and hickeys to his skin), I let slip how insulted I felt that he found an ugly, disgusting sand-rat of a CARTOON CHARACTER as attractive as _me_. That's when Jack let me know he had lied simply because he didn't like the way I'd spoken so condescendingly when I'd first pointed out to him that he was lusting over a cartoon character.

Once again, Jack proved that he has a _long_ way to go in learning the ins-and-outs of being evil. He doesn't know he came close to dying simply because of how badly he'd insulted me today. The boy has almost _zero_ instinct for survival, really.

Yet, he mollified me with his declaration that he'd lied and that _I_ was the only magical, pretty warlord who took his breath away. I damned well better be. No other magical being can have Spicer until I'm done with him. For now, he's _my_ property, and death to any that try to poach him from me!

Even disgusting, overly-theatrical sand-rat cartoon characters.

I kissed Jack as reward for his pretty words; kissed him for a long time before I moved my mouth a few feet downward. Very quickly, he was proclaiming me the god of his world as I took my time sucking him to climax.

After that – and a suitable allotment of time for a nap – I asked him to prepare dinner. It was amusing to watch him wobble out of his bedroom on unsteady legs, but I was hungry by then and wanted to see what else he could create. I know he's a cupcake-baking genius, but actual food... this is different.

He prepared lambchops and ravioli; both so perfectly tender and flavorful that my mouth was watering even as I ate the meal!

I rewarded him with more sex. Why not? He'd definitely earned it with such a fabulous dinner!

He fell asleep not long after the third round of fucking, but that's fine. I want him well rested so he'll be able to wear himself out when we go clubbing tomorrow evening for St. Patrick's Day. I shall have to find "civilian" clothing, but that shouldn't be too hard. I'm thinking black trousers, boots, and shirt with a green sash tied around my hips. Perhaps an emerald ring or two.

For now, I believe I will go back to Katnappé and make use of her eager body.

 **Edited To Add: An Hour Later**

Ahhhh, _gods_ , can that girl _fuck_. Dirty little blonde slut... MMMMMMM.


	75. Tuesday, March 17, 4707 – St. Patrick's Day

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 15  
Monks Annoyed: I confess I gave half a thought to coaxing Jack into drunk dialing Tohomiko’s and Pedrosa’s telephone numbers so he could warble at them with filthy drunken songs and let them know what a god I am in bed.  
Cupcakes Consumed: 0 (v. good)

So, today was St. Patrick's Day – or, as I prefer to think of it, The Day of the Leash.

Spicer left the palace to acquire suitable clubbing clothes. He returned wearing a green-and-black striped shirt, _criminally tight_ pants with chains on, black boots, and that spiked collar from before... only this time, he'd added a _leash_.

I have no idea how I didn't injure myself given how fast I became erect.

Spicer returned with his brother in tow. It seems Mr. Stone was bored out of his mind and wanted to go clubbing with us. I was _NOT PLEASED_ up until Spicer put that collar on, clipped on the matching leash, and offered the end of it to me with an invitation to lead my "loyal dog" around all night.

I'm not a dog person. Horrible, dirty, slobbery mutts – but, for Spicer, I can put up with it. >=3

If I were to turn him into a non-specific animal minion, allowing the magic to choose _any_ form for him, I'm pretty sure he'd be an albino white German Shepherd or a Husky; some big, galloping thing full of hair and slobber and clumsy adorable-ness.

There was nothing "cute" about what I did with him and that leash, though.

I don't know what Stone got up to for the hour or so Spicer and I were gone. As soon as Jack offered me the leash, I grabbed it and took him to bed.

He _really_ seemed to get off on me tugging on the leash while I fucked him from behind while calling him a bad dog.

He didn't seem to mind much when I started calling him a puppy, either.

Me: Bad dog, Spicer! Bad dog! Bad puppy! You're such a bad puppy! Wag your tail, puppy!

Jack: *rolls his hips in a 'wagging' motion*

Me: *roars and fucks him harder and comes inside him*

Jack: *howls his own pleasure and comes as well*

I think I'm in love with that collar-and-leash. It's come in _so_ handy.

Still, I promised Spicer I would go out clubbing with him, and so away we went to Hong Kong, me and Spicer and Stone.

I wore the outfit I'd decided upon in the previous entry and Jack seemed to approve if the avaricious look in his eyes was any indication. He looked like he wanted to climb me like a tree and ride me all night – not that I would have minded much!

However, we received a surprise. Not long after we'd arrived at the club, a blond teenager with glasses pounced on Stone out of nowhere. It was Richard Foley; Stone's lover from Dakota. "Gear," I believe his name is. Tsk. Superheroes are scraping the bottom of the barrel for silly names to call themselves, it seems.

I wonder what Spicer's chosen name would be if he were to become a Super Villain? Probably some ridiculous name like Tech Lord.

At any rate, Foley's arrival meant we were not stuck with a third wheel. Stone was suitably occupied all night, though he did remain with us and we included Foley in our little group. The blue-eyed blond made it a point to stay as far away from me as possible, though. He took one look at me and flinched. Knowing geeks as I do, Stone most likely told him about me after our first meeting and

Foley did some investigating of his own. I am incredibly smug about this.

Still, the two techno-geeks in our group got along amazingly well and indulged in science- and techno-babble for a solid bit of time until I finally got fed up with it. Spicer had gone to great lengths to get me to agree to this outing; nerd-talk can wait for another time!

I interrupted their chatter and demanded that my whore dance for me.

I'm hard again just remembering the way Spicer moved on the dance floor.

Considering that the club was filled pre-dominantly with most of the white people living in Hong Kong who'd come out in force for St. Patrick's Day celebratory nonsense, one would think that even an albino would get lost in the crush.

Not so! Once the club employees realized an albino was on the floor, they turned on the black-lights and Spicer's skin _glowed_.

His skin flared luminously and people spread out from him, giving him room to put on a show. He writhed; twisted and turned and flowed with the techno music that poured from the speakers. He was a sensual ghost out on that dance floor and I was entranced with his performance.

When he returned to me, damp and panting with his exertions, I caught hold of him, clipped the leash back on, and kissed him until we were both breathless.

Then, because Stone was distracted with watching Foley out on the dance floor, Spicer slipped beneath the table, opened my trousers, and began sucking my cock right there.

Of course, because of the black-lights still being on, even the faintest trace of that black-light makes anything white glow like a nuclear strike in a diamond mine. It was incredibly easy to figure out _where_ Spicer was and what he was doing, but I did not _care_. My whore was pleasuring me, brazenly and openly, because he considered _my_ approval worth more than the strangers surrounding us. He was correct, but still... he sucked me off in a room full of strangers simply because he cared so little for them and so much for me!

The manager of the club showed up at our table very quickly to tell him to stop. I let the annoying creature know that I would do him irreparable harm if he didn't fuck off and leave us alone. Spicer intervened to tell the man his name. Thanks to the Spicer name/fortune, the manager left us alone and Jack got his mouth and throat back around me quickly.

Oh, but the memory of that sweet, hot little tongue curling and licking around me... that wet, tight throat...

I shall have to wake him soon.

Not long after I came in Spicer's mouth (and the little minx pulled back so some of it got on his face, which showed up spectacularly well in the black-lighting, which he'd counted on, so everyone could see my mark of ownership on him!), Stone challenged his brother to a drinking contest.

Of course, the club was letting the celebrants interact with the music selection, so at some point Irish drinking songs were being performed via karaoke. Three sheets to the wind, his face stained with my come, Jack took hold of the microphone and sang (perfectly clearly and in good voice; yet _another_ hidden talent – the ability to be balls-to-the-wall drunk and still sing clearly) about some man named Patty Murphy dying and the irreverent joy the villagers had in the man's demise. Apparently, it's a well-known song. Some of the club-goers, Stone, and Foley howled along with him. It was quite the spectacle.

Then, more drinking was done. Jack won. Stone slid under the table, calling for his mother, his lover, and a priest.

The astonishing part of the whole ordeal is that Jack, despite being dangerously drunk, hardly showed any symptoms. His speech was mildly slurred and he was a trifle wobbly on his feet, but other than that... he was fine.

Quite frankly, I'm worried. The only way he could be _that_ unaffected is if he'd spent a long time developing an immunity to drink, and he's not yet eighteen.

Dear gods, am I fucking an alcoholic?

I shan't stand for it. I cannot tolerate drunkards or junkies.

Spicer sent Foley and Stone back to the mansion using Spicer’s GTC Gloves. Foley, I think, had an erection because of those gloves.

That left me and Spicer, who became _incredibly_ affectionate, clingy, and weepy.

Jack... behaved as if he were confessing something to me. He seemed so relieved to let out precisely what he was feeling.

He told me that he would die for me.

I don't... I really don't know what to say to that; to _think_ about that.

He apologized for being such a brat the past few days and explained he was simply exercising his evility by trying his hand at manipulation. I warned him he was going to get himself killed if he continued trying it on me, as well as insulting me so thoroughly. I told him that I could see how he was maturing and becoming truly evil, but he _has_ to exercise caution or he would be killed before the process could be completed.

Jack agreed with a nod and calmed down, and I rewarded him by pulling him onto my lap and kissing him. We were kissing so sensually we were practically having sex with our mouths alone.

Still, I'm not comfortable in a crowd and I wanted to fuck him completely. Despite my pleasure in being serviced by my whore earlier, I wanted privacy for the rest of it, and asked if we could finally go home.

Of course, Spicer agreed with me and we left quickly, and from then on, I had him in my bed.

I had him keep the collar and leash on. >=3

Because of the drinking, though, he passed out after a few hours. I put him back in his own room, because if he was going to be sick, I didn't want it in _my_ room.

He returned to me a few hours later, though, asking if he could simply snuggle with me. I agreed, providing he didn't sick-up all over everything.

He is curled up against me, now, as I write this. Despite my intentions of a few moments ago to wake him for sex, I think I shall simply attend to it myself and wait for him to be sober again.

For now, I shall go entertain myself with thoughts of albino white skin, a collar, and a leash.


	76. Wednesday, March 18, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 15  
Monks Annoyed: Don’t know, don’t care.  
Cupcakes Consumed: 11 (*wince*)

I am angry with Spicer.

I realize that he is desperate to keep my favor, but for the sake of all that is evil, he _can_ say no if he doesn't feel like having sex! I won't discard him simply for that! Considering how I feel about rape and his knowledge of how I feel about it, I should think it would be _obvious_ to him that I will not penalize him for not being in the mood to fuck!

GRAH. How such a brilliant young man can be so stone-thick _STUPID_ is beyond me!

I let him snuggle with me last night. I let him sleep in. He woke up around noon and one of my warriors that I'd ordered to lurk nearby reported it to me. I was _extremely_ horny by then (Katnappé was not available this morning) and I went to him for sex.

He let me, but I had no clue he wasn't really into it when, after I came, I discovered he was barely even half-hard.

Just so I didn't feel like a dirty horrible pervert rapist, I got Spicer hard and coaxed him to climax a couple of times, and then left him alone.

I still feel dirty, though.

 _Damn_ that boy! How can he not know that he can say no to sex if he wants or needs to?

Ninny-hammered idiot!

I tried to meditate afterwards, but it didn't really work. I sparred with my warriors and worked off some frustration, but it still rankles.

Of course, I was horny again. I suppose the clubbing last night did _me_ some good, anyway. I bathed the stink of the human masses and alcohol from my skin and hair this morning, and fairly soon I was thrumming with energy and arousal; hence why I made use of Spicer and _did not notice_ his lack of enthusiasm until after I'd gained some relief.

Katnappé finally returned to her lab sometime in the afternoon after I'd finished sparring with my warriors. I made use of her for hours, not counting the pauses we took so she could check the experiments occasionally.

I had her in every position imaginable. I even fucked her ass, but I think I prefer her pussy. After all, I can have perfectly tight ass from Spicer anytime I wish ( _EVEN IF HE ISN'T IN THE MOOD, GODSDAMN HIM_ ). When I'm with a woman, I'd rather have the part that makes her unique.

At one point, Katnappé tried to beg off, saying I'd fucked her so much she was too sore and swollen to take me. I licked her to soothe her flesh and excite her again. It worked very well. When I once again settled between her thighs and pushed my hard cock into her slick pussy, she arched into the length of me and took me deep inside, purring her pleasure at having me inside her. I fucked her, slow and easily, and when I came inside her, she orgasmed, too.

Apparently, she gets a huge thrill at the feel/knowledge of a man coming inside her without wearing a condom.

I don't understand it, but I don't care. All I care about is that she let me fuck her and didn't try to feign enthusiasm.

Damn it. I need to fuck again now, but I won't go near Spicer and Katnappé's too sore to take me. I'm not particularly in the mood for Pedrosa, either.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, and godsdamn.

That only leaves Wuya.

 _FUCK_.

 **Edited to Add:**

Well, at least she actually made an effort to be a pleasurable partner this time around. It wasn't too terrible, but after having the fresh youthful loveliness of Spicer and Katnappé, it's still a shock to be inside a middle-aged witch who cares only about her own pleasure without trying to offer me any in return.

Usually. As I said, this time around, she actually made an effort, though it was half-hearted at best. Still, it sufficed for me to use her three times. She tried for a fourth, but I'd had all I could take from her.

Bleargh. Must go bathe.


	77. Thursday, March 19, 4707

There is something wrong with me. There has to be.

Not long after I had a bath, I was once again wild to fuck!

I refused to go near Pedrosa or Wuya, Spicer was nowhere in immediate sight, and so that left Katnappé. Despite being sore, she couldn’t resist. She mostly pleasured me with her mouth, but I had her at least three times between her legs until even she could not take me anymore. She suggested I go find Pedrosa, but the thought of him mouthing off was enough to sour my stomach, so I left her to go home, clean up, and make an effort to find Spicer, now that the edge had been taken off.

I arrived home, sponge-bathed, and then went in search of Spicer.

I found him taking drugs.

Not recreational drugs, as I had first assumed, but actual _medicine_. He is taking a medication called Avanza to counter-act his diagnosed depression. I have investigated this drug. Here are the list of things that can go wrong:

~ Mild visual hallucinations (when taken during the day or when awake)  
~ Increased appetite  
~ Vivid dreams / Nightmares as a result of regular intake  
~ Depersonalization / Derealization (i.e. feeling unreal, in a dream-like state)  
~ Weight gain  
~ Increase in cholesterol, independent of weight gain  
~ Drowsiness, especially at lower doses and during the first few weeks of treatment  
~ Dizziness, coupled often with the effects of sickness  
~ Headache  
~ Excessive urinating when taken with alcohol  
~ Mania  
~ Seizures  
~ Tremor  
~ Muscle twitching and Restless Legs Syndrome  
~ Pins and needles  
~ Rash and skin eruptions  
~ Pain in the joints or muscles  
~ Low blood pressure  
~ Higher blood pressure  
~ Obesity

If this is what Spicer has been dealing with for most of his life, it explains why he did not attempt learn how to be a fighter and why he does not do so many of the activities he learned in order to please his mother.

It also explains a lot about him. “Mania?” Hmph. With a list that long, I’m surprised the symptoms don’t include “May cause mild death.”

I think I’d rather be depressed than face down all those side-effects.

Still, when I saw him taking the pills, I was... distraught. For a few worrisome moments, I thought he was trying to take his own life.

I nearly broke his wrist when I caught hold of him and tightened my grip. I sent him to his knees, crying from the pain, but I didn't care then and I don't care now. It was worth it because he confessed to me his medical "disability."

I let him be after that. I gave him water to help him take his medicine, pet his hair, and gave him privacy.

I also left him alone so I could do some digging into his past. I decided I should know precisely _what_ sort of whore I'd acquired for myself.

I took out the Eagle-Eye Scope and the Fountain of Hui, locked myself in a private room, and took a look into Spicer's past.

I saw him try to commit suicide three times at the ages of seven, ten, and eleven. Considering the abuse he suffered at the hands of his schoolmates and the neglect from his parents, I'm not terribly surprised. I'm also not surprised that he tried to kill his classmates on two separate occasions because of attacks they'd made against him.

They deserved it entirely, by the way. _Especially_ the "prank" that involved spiking Jack's juice with floor cleaner a janitor had foolishly left unattended. That one resulted in Jack nearly dying and spending a week in the hospital. No punitive action was taken against the culprits until Jack took matters into his own hands.

I witnessed brutality of all sorts (barring sexual) launched against Spicer and no one stepping in to help Spicer. Rather, they tried to fix _him_ , as if _he_ were entirely at fault.

To be honest, I'm utterly amazed that Spicer is functioning as well as he is.

He was placed into therapy and the woman was a complete and utter dunce. The only thing she did right was put Spicer on medication for his depression. All else failed.

Spicer, it seems, does not take his medication regularly. Only when the depression intensifies to the point he begins to suffer in his ability to function somewhat normally.

After spending hours digging into his life, I have discovered that he responds best to the presence of other people who are not actively trying to hurt him. Not even his mother did this for him when he was suffering from depression attacks. I wonder why he loves her so much when she was never there for him when he needed her?

I shall do my best for the next few days to remain in Spicer's presence and be as pleasant as possible. I shall even snuggle and pet him.

I want him to begin functioning normally again – or, at least, what _passes_ for normal. After all, Spicer is _my_ whore and when I want him to service me, I want him to do it eagerly!

Here’s hoping I do not actually have to make do with Pedrosa. He has so thoroughly irritated me that I would rather pummel him into a coma than fuck him, no matter how easy he is.


	78. Friday, March 20, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 15  
Monks Annoyed: Here's hoping!  
Cupcakes Consumed: 3 (stuffed my face with a bunch of food, so only room for three)

I made Spicer sleep with me last night. If he requires contact with another living, breathing being, then the most critical time would be when he's sleeping so he'll know that someone is around to keep an eye on him when he's vulnerable.

It seems to have helped tremendously, because when I finished my morning exercises, I smelled something delicious and went to investigate. Spicer had made breakfast! A large array of perfectly cooked eggs, bacon, waffles, sausage, French Toast, pancakes, Eggs Benedict... there was coffee, tea, juices of at least five different kinds... muffins, cupcakes, bagels, regular toast...

He put out a _feast_.

He was also smiling.

I sat down at the table and dug in. In between bites of food, I asked him, "Shall I take this as a sign that your dismal mood has faded, Spicer?"

Jack grinned, nodded, and told me, "Yeah. It's pretty much over. I just... y'know, I just wanted to thank you for being around while I was in this... this _funk_." He grimaced as he said it, but after seeing that useless therapist of his and hearing her use that word, I can understand his dislike of the word. "Not even my _Mom_ would stick around when I was like this. I mean, considering that we don't even have a _real_ relationship, it was pretty awesome of you to do that for me. Just wanted to let you know how grateful I am."

My reply went something like this: "Think nothing of it, Spicer. If it takes so little to keep my bed-partner functioning and well, I will gladly be near you when you are in so spectacular a sulk. It is a small price to pay for such a lovely servant and whore."

I do not understand why a young man with such a shaky sense of self-esteem likes to be called a whore, but maybe it's because he is _my_ whore? Maybe he is only willing to accept such treatment from me, but no one else... It is a lovely thought.  >=3

Suffice it to say, he liked the comment so much that he waited until I was finished eating before pouncing on me. He kissed me, sucked me, and rode me right there at the dining table! Well... we were in the chair (for a few moments, anyway), but still...!

Oh, it was hedonistic. Jack was beautiful as he rode my cock, his expression purely ecstatic. I had been denied him for days, however, and I suddenly realized how much I had _missed_ him! I reached behind him and swept the table clear; sent dishes and food flying to make a spectacular mess, and then powered up out of the chair, lay him on the table, and powered _into_ him!

The shrieks of carnal ecstasy meant he liked it, if the deafening noise was anything to go by.

After that, I dragged him upstairs to bed and had my way with him for about five hours or so. I even confessed to him how much I'd missed fucking him, which seemed to please Jack to no end.

When we finally wore ourselves out, I brought up the subject of the Tangle Web Comb. It seems pointless, but perhaps it can be turned into some type of security system...?

 **Edited To Add:**

It is now a few hours later. I was interrupted by Spicer who came knocking on my door. He thought I was asleep, but was fully prepared for me to be somewhat grouchy about being woken up. The reason he woke me up...?

Sex.

 _Jack_ came to _me_ in the middle of the night, demanding sex!  >=D

Naturally, I did not refuse him. Hells, I think I barely got the door shut before I was inside him once more.

He is now curled up beside me in bed, a slight smile curving his pretty lips as he dreams whatever it is he dreams. Knowing Spicer, it is either robots, me, or sex _with_ me.

Oh, and he says he wants to use the Tangle Web Comb as a bondage toy, the kinky little bastard.

>=3


	79. Saturday, March 21, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 16 (the Tangle Web Comb on loan to Spicer)  
Monks Annoyed: Probably.  
Cupcakes Consumed: 5 (I chalk this up as a win)

I have greatly annoyed Spicer by delving into his past without his permission, but do I care?

I do not.

If he's going to be living in my home and sleeping in my bed, then I get to snoop into his past to find out what sort of mental problems I'm dealing with.

He was in his lab, cutting paper with scissors, and I commented on how surprising it had been to see Jack lunge with full homicidal rage at some boy named Tommy Jenkins - the one who had spiked Jack's drink with Lysol and put him in the hospital.

Spicer then informed me that the boy had been moving to another country and he hadn't had _time_ to perform slow torture on the boy to get him back for that, and so while the initial perpetrator was regarded as the victim throughout the whole thing, Jack was written up as an insane ambulatory mammal with an affinity for sharp objects and explodey things.

I shall have to look into his actual file just to see what they've written that he's so worried about me seeing. It ought to be an entertaining piece of fiction.

I confess to being slightly worried, though, because Jack (in a full-blown pout) went back to work in his lab and I overheard him muttering, "Build one teensy little nuclear bomb in the first grade and they neeeeeeeeeeever let you forget it."

He could do WHAT when he was only six-years-old? O.O

What have I gotten myself mixed up in here? Is any piece of ass worth it?

Apparently so, because when Jack came to me later with a _fantastic_ idea, I was all for it.

Spicer had the brilliant idea to _fuck on the ceiling_.

I am, of course, able to adhere to any surface I wish through a combination of Kung-Fu and magic. Spicer cannot, but that did not really stop him much from demanding that I pretend the ceiling is a "wall" and fucking him up against it.

I couldn’t help it; I let him know precisely how pleased I am with his brilliance, complimenting him with each new patch of ceiling we dirtied with bodily fluids.

We dirtied the entire ceiling. >=3

When I wasn't busy fucking us both silly in gravity-defying ways, however, I did let Spicer know _what_ he was risking with the man-made medicine he is ingesting. I have suggested he seek out natural remedies. I know for a fact that a mixture of jujube, ginger, peony, and licorice will help with depression.

Diet, of course, is important too – but it largely requires the removal or reduction of sweets, caffeine, and alcohol.

Fat chance of _that_ happening in this place.

I've left it to him to discover this on his own, however. I'm not doing all of the work for him. He has a larger-than-average intelligence - let him use it for something _other_ than technology for a change.

In other news, Spicer received a letter today, forwarded from his brother. I don't know what's in it. All I know, from what Spicer grunted at me, is that it's from his grandmother.

I had no idea his grandmother was still alive. I recall him mentioning her once, and the last I saw of an old woman with the Spicer features in my snooping yesterday was when Jack was eleven. He claims she started him on the path to evil.

I find myself wondering if I want to get to know this woman better or not.

For now, I am pleasantly exhausted from yet more sex on the ceiling with Jack. I am _so glad_ he got over his funk sooner rather than later. Of my current sex partners, he is by far the best.


	80. Sunday, March 22, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574 (barely)  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139 (thank the gods, they’re all still there!)  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 16 (MOBY MORPHER IS MINE! MIIIIIINE!!)  
Monks Annoyed: Who cares?  
Cupcakes Consumed: Not enough of them. >=(

  
I'm in quite a bit of pain right now, actually.

I returned home from checking on the cloning experiments (and fucking Katnappé, directly after I had fucked Spicer) to find Jack twitchy, jittery, and otherwise nerve-wrecked.

He told me that he had very nearly been fucked by **HANNIBALROY BEAN** who had used the Moby Morpher to assume **_MY_** form!

THAT DIRTY, ROTTEN FILTH INVADED MY HOME AND TRIED TO FUCK **MY** WHORE WEARING **MY** BODY.

Spicer told me everything, including how he tricked Bean into revealing himself by making "me" confess to how much "I" love him and then held Bean off with a pair of scissors (Jack's weapon of choice, it seems). Bean tried to tempt Jack into joining him by promising Jack that he could make me fall in love with Spicer.

That's as far as Jack got, and then I was gone.

I used the Thing-Finder to locate the slimy vegetable and attacked.

Bean, naturally, gave as good as he got. Despite being morally bankrupt and owing back-taxes in honor, Bean is no slouch at fighting. He had to work hard to hold me off so he could escape, but _not_ before I got my hands on the Moby Morpher.

 _That_ little toy is now _mine_ and Bean will have to work especially hard to change shape now.

 _Unless he gets Jack to build him a shape-changing device_.

That rotten creep is after _MY_ albino genius!

Apparently, Jack is now "interesting" to him (*shudder*) and he wants Jack working for him.

 _OVER MY DEAD BODY_.

Jack told me he managed to turn down Bean only because he'd rather have me honestly – even if that means no love, only sex.

I wanted so much to reward him with passionate sex, but I hurt too much to move comfortably right now. Fortunately for me, Spicer is an excellent loyal servant. He's already given me a couple of orgasms by sucking me off. The endorphins released have done much to ease the aches and pains "gifted" to me by Bean.

I must do everything I can to keep Jack out of Bean's clutches. I remember, all too clearly, what happens to someone who interests Bean.

Oh, gods... to the alcohol vault!

hahahahaha never mind alcoholvault came to me good boy spicer yes do _THAT_ GOOD BOY _SPICER!!!_


	81. Monday, March 23, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574 (I _think_ ; I could be wrong. I feel like I’ve been done in.)  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139 (and if I’d lost any, Armageddon would have arrived on Earth)  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 16 (HA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)  
Monks Annoyed: I WISH.  
Cupcakes Consumed: 4 (Spicer hand-fed me a bit at a time)

  
Spicer has become a trifle clingy and desperately horny, but I can't say as I blame him.

One tends to do _anything_ that will rid them of the memory of--

No. NOT going there.

It’s too late in the evening to get falling down drunk.

At any rate, Jack has spent the day pampering me. Yesterday, before I left for Katnappé's place, he had watched me meditating without my shirt on, which led to us having a grand time before I went away, leaving him vulnerable to that parasite.

Today, I was not inclined to move much, so I did meditate, just not in the way I normally do.

Afterwards, Jack fed the cats, fed _me_ , and then bathed me.

He is good with his hands. Half-way into the shampooing, I could no longer resist him. I dragged him into the bath despite my sore and aching body, ripped his clothes off, put him in the Reverse Cowgirl position, and fucked us both silly.

I clutched his hips, leaving possessive scratch marks on them. I bit the back of his neck. I pulled him onto my cock, rough and dirty until I came deep inside of him.

And the naughty little mink begged me for more.

He's been begging me for it all day, actually. All night, too.

He only _just_ fell asleep and currently, his hand is curled possessively around my cock which is so worn out it cannot possibly get up for anything right now.

I wonder if dragon sex phases are contagious...?

 **Edited To Add:**

finally had to force him to go back to sleep lords of evil what did that bean DO to him???? fucking hyper fuck monkey bent on fucking gods spicer let me sleep!


	82. Tuesday, March 24, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 17 ( _still_ HA!!!!!!!!!!)  
Monks Annoyed: Eventually.  
Cupcakes Consumed: 0 (too _angry_ )

Nothing like a little murder to perk one's spirits up.

Spicer did not take being growled at to leave me alone and let me sleep. He ran away to his own room and made an appointment with that useless wench who was his therapist.

Jack had gone to his appointment and, after an hour away, returned home _shaking_. He'd gone this sickly grayish-green color. Naturally, I assumed he'd been pounced on by Bean again and demanded he tell me what was wrong.

He told me that he realized he'd been slipping into an old behavioral pattern of his called "escapist behavior." He said he realized he was trying to run away from/ignore what Bean had done to him by sublimating it with lots and lots and lots (and lots and Lots and LOTS) of sex with me. So, he'd set up the appointment and gone to the crazy bitch-woman.

She told him he _deserved_ to be sexually assaulted and damaged for being so disgusting as to be in a same-sex relationship in the first place.

I stayed with Spicer long enough to calm him down. I suggested he do some research on natural remedies and then I left.

Right about now, the authorities are still trying to find the bits and pieces of the wretched thing that was masquerading as a psychiatrist. They are also finding several bits of _non-human_ DNA.

I also made sure that Spicer's recent visit was stricken from the records.

I am once again exhausted, but that bitch will _never_ be able to tell anyone that being raped is not only perfectly fine, it's _DESERVED_.

Even if she hadn't said that to _MY_ Jack, I'd have killed her for that atrocious lie.

....My Jack?

What in the hell is _wrong_ with me?!


	83. Wednesday, March 25, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 17 (I still have a smug about that. >=3)  
Monks Annoyed: *shrug*  
Cupcakes Consumed: 8 (Hmmmm…)

What a strange and uncomfortable day this has been.

Spicer let me know that he needed to go see his grandmother today. He did so by bribing me with an extravagant and sumptuous breakfast. However, when I called him on it, he flat-out admitted it, and therefore I was impressed enough to agree.

That, and he told me he needed to talk about what had happened to him and it was either her or me.

And so over the hills and through the woods to Grandmother Spicer's house we went.

It was the shock of my life to see the old woman who answered the door and bear-hugged Spicer. I _know_ her!

Roughly 66 years ago, a barely sixteen-year-old girl had been sent to me as an emissary from the shadow organization known as The Illuminati, American division. Her duty had been to seduce me into lending my strength to their cause, which is subtle manipulation of the world power order. She tried her best, but I was not overly tempted by her. As I recall, I had a rather glorious African chieftain's daughter as my consort at the time who....

I _really_ miss Ekenedilichukwu. So flexible, so sensuous, such a lithe tongue…! She was like a black Jack Spicer with a vagina!

Still, I was impressed with the Illuminati girl's determination. She poisoned my African consort _not_ because the color of Ekenedilichukwu's skin insulted her, but because Ekenedilichukwu was in her _way_.

That girl’s name was Phyllis Taylor who, only a few months after her failed attempt at seducing me, married a young American entrepreneur by the name of Wilson Spicer.

The girl who had so long ago tried to seduce me into helping the Illuminati subtly conquer the world was now Jack Spicer's grandmother.

Oh, what a tiny world this is.

As if _that_ wasn't enough, the two of them proceeded to greet and berate each other using language that would make a sailor on shore leave blush like a virgin. Yet, even as they called each other horrible names and ridiculed each other, they did so with soft smiles on their faces and joy in their gazes as they looked at each other.

I really oughtn't to have been so shocked by their behavior. Jack had to get it from _somewhere_ , after all; his odd little quirks and social retardation weren't _all_ gleaned from vindictive classmates and inattentive parents.

Then again, every family has its nutjob. I remember Uncle Minzhe and his fascination with goats that none of us talked about.

At some point, Phyllis began complimenting Jack on "finally snagging a man" to which Jack replied that our situation "wasn't like _that_ " and that we were only fuck-buddies (such a crude way of saying it, but it is true). That was when Phyllis congratulated him for becoming my whore and saying how such a thing rarely happened more than once a century.

She's right, but I really did _not_ want to have that discussion right then and there.

Jack, fortunately, essentially told me to get lost which I gratefully did. I was dreading having to return to pick him up, however, because I was _so_ certain he would start peppering me with questions about my almost-sexual relationship with his grandmother (which sounds wrong, Wrong, WRONG!). Yet, when the electronic summons finally came and I went to retrieve him, there was nothing beyond more foul-language-peppered affection between the two of them as Phyllis and Jack said their goodbyes.

We arrived home, Spicer and I, at which point Jack informed me that his grandmother had fixed the psychological break for him and would I pretty please fuck him into the floor? ...or words to that effect.

I not only fucked him into the floor, but the walls, stairs, pillars, ceiling, and in one memorable instance, one of the wading pools.

My warriors are going to gripe for days about the mess we made, but I _do not care_. Jack is back to normal and that means I can use him without hesitation.

The grandmother thing still bothers me, though. What are the _odds_ on that happening?

I'd ask Spicer to figure them out for me, but then I'd have to explain _why_ , and that is a migraine I simply do not wish to have right now – if _ever_.

Still no sign of progress on the Tangle Web Comb project. I'm debating whether or not to let Spicer try copying the Moby Morpher or simply fling the damned thing into a lava lake inside of a volcano to even my and Jack's chances of survival.

Decisions, decisions.


	84. Thursday, March 26, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 17  
Monks Annoyed: Go, Spicer! *waves a little pro-Spicer flag*  
Cupcakes Consumed: 6 (not too bad)

Today was a Sex Day.

As if any of them _aren't_ , but anyway – the SGW known as Passion's Pendant went active. I sent Spicer to retrieve it. It's only fitting as he _is_ my minion and sex toy. Besides, with at least two other people in the running to try to get it to use against me, I figured now was as good a time to test his budding skill as a fighter because he was bound to have a ferocious fight on his hands.

The two people he had to face off against the most were Pedrosa and Wuya - both of whom would have liked to have used the Passion's Pendant on me to drive me wild with lust for them. Fortunately for me, Spicer managed to defeat them both (as well as the rest of the monks).

In one of the more lucid moments after he returned home and let me use the Passion's Pendant on him, Spicer wondered why a long-dead _monk_ had created a Shen-Gong-Wu that inspired _lust_. I told him it was created by a former monk who turned to evil. Immediately, he thought it was me, but I have _always_ disdained the SGW, even when I was a Dragon in Training.

No, it was made by a monk-gone-bad after I turned to evil. It was definitely _inspired_ by me, though I felt no need to inform Spicer of this.  >=3

For now, however, the Passion's Pendant has been deactivated and hidden away somewhere that Wuya will never find it. Spicer, much of his white skin covered in bite marks, bruises, and scratches, is sitting in bed beside me scribbling in his own diary about today's events.

...And has just written a message to me to keep my eyes on my own journal, the cheeky little bastard.

I think someone needs a reminder of who is in charge around here. >=3


	85. Friday, March 27, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 17  
Monks Annoyed: Possibly  
Cupcakes Consumed: 2 (v. good)

I suppose I _must_ be feeling comfortable with Spicer around, by now, because today saw the inadvertent admission of actually having relatives (long since turned to dust and bone, thank the gods) and the nonsense one relative in particular got up to when I was a boy oh-so-many moons ago.

Spicer received yet another letter today. He read it, let out a sound like he'd barfed up four feet of long intestine, and declared definitively that he was _not_ going. I was curious, so he explained about his cousin's birthday party, his antipathy for said cousin and cousin's mother, and his absolute desire to stay as far the hell away from his uncle as he could.

Jack: Well, y'see, I've got this creepy, pervert uncle—

Me: You, too?

I couldn't very well leave a statement like that hanging with no explanation. Spicer would have obsessed over it for _days_ until I finally broke down and told him, so I thought I might as well get it over with.

I told him about Uncle Minzhe and his love affair with goats that the whole village knew about, but nobody ever called him on it. The way the villagers saw it, if it didn't do anything to bring misfortune upon them, then they could leave well enough alone. It's ironic that Minzhe became the _scape_ goat the year the blight hit the crops, thus forcing Dashi and myself to become monks so our parents could feed themselves. The blight hit the crops, they wilted, and Minzhe's goat obsession was used against him because _obviously_ , he'd brought this curse upon the village and blah, blah, blah.

Before Minzhe was run out of town (without his goats; the livestock was needed), though, he used to try to get me to go "play with the animals" alone with him in the goat-shed. Having always been possessed of a keen intellect, I rejected him. I know Dashi went once, and after that, never again.

It would explain a lot about my dear, mentally unstable elder brother.

I shared this information with Spic-----------------------

 **Edited To Add:**

I should be upset about the long scrawl of ink across the paper of this diary, but I can't help smiling.

It's the physical representation of the moment Jack surprised me by pulling the covers away and wrapping his mouth around my cock, swallowing me inside with a flick and curl of his tongue.

I do so _love_ having a talented, eager slut of a bed partner!

Amend that: A soon to be a wealthy-in-his-own-right talented slut of a bed partner. I have just now realized that April 1st is coming up fast and Jack, with his unbelievably unlucky birthday, will be eighteen.

I shall have to do something special for him. Everyone's first eighteen should be special. Mine passed in a haze of liquor as I tried to drown the memory of—

URGH.

To the Alcohol Vault!


	86. Saturday, March 28, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 17  
Monks Annoyed: If they are, I don’t know about it.  
Cupcakes Consumed: 1(all I had time for)

I never thought I'd ever be in a position to say this, but my much younger lover is starting to wear me out.

In a really _fun_ way, though!

This morning, Jack came to me wearing his collar and leash, and a naughty-bad-fun time was had by all. Then, later in the day, he finished the Tech Tangle Web Comb (TWC) and begged me to tie him up so that he was helpless to any sexual deviance I chose to practice on him.

Because it was pretend, and we both know I would not actually attempt to rape him, that is why it was so _hot_ for both of us instead of icky.

Either way, we spent the day exploring all the kinky options of the Tech TWC.

I am exhausted.


	87. Sunday, March 29, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 17  
Monks Annoyed: Don’t know, don’t care.  
Cupcakes Consumed: 0 (needed fluids more)

  
Today, I did nothing but lie in a pile and snooze.

Well, not true. I occasionally ate, and occasionally fucked Spicer, but other than that, I caught up on my rest.

There are times when I love nothing more than staying in bed and letting my mind and body relax. Today was one of those days, especially as yesterday was spent in _sixteen hours_ of sex.

Honestly, how I'm not emaciated and he hasn't crumbled to dust, I don't know.

Jack, at some point, had his robots bring in some of those sports drinks that end in "ade." The taste is barely palatable, but they certainly did help with the thirst quenching.

Even the sex was done in lazy, lackadaisical fashion - performed only when my body insisted I needed to ease the ache of lust building in my balls. For the most part, Spicer simply sucked me off, but there was one instance I rather liked: He and I lay in bed, spooning, with me behind him and my cock nestled inside him. We lay there, barely moving except for tiny, rocking thrusts.

It was slow, lazy... delicious. When I came inside him, I did so with a low sigh of relief and Jack made a soft noise of pleasure as he came that I liked tremendously, though I can't think why.

He sucked and licked his come from my fingers, and then we fell asleep again.

All in all, a (mostly) lazy day, and a very pleasant one at that.


	88. Monday, March 30, 4707

(no time for details, in hurry)

  
Something is wrong with Spicer. He is insatiably horny and does not appear to be entirely sane.

He—

Oh, NO, here he comes AGAIN!


	89. Tuesday, March 31 – Wednesday, April 1, 4707

_I AM SO ANGRY I’M SHAKING_ , so FORGIVE the bad handwriting today!

  
April _FUCKING_ Fool's Day, it surely is.

Yesterday, I discovered that I have been made a fool of for two months, now.

It was no "dragon phase" I was going through since the beginning of February. I was being _drugged_.

I finally had to lock Spicer in a room in order to keep him from leaping on me for sex. He was naked, with no tools of any sort in sight and nothing with which he could craft any, so I felt safe enough leaving him there while I investigated.

I noticed that the near insane horniness had started just after he had bathed. He'd borrowed _my_ shampoo, since he'd run out of his own. Since I also usually feel freshly aroused after bathing, I put two-and-two together. I took a sample of the shampoo over to Katnappé. However, since I, too, was still under the effects of the drug (which I did not have proof of at the time), I arrived half-naked and all-hard. She took one look at me, then pulled down the pants on her cat-suit and bent over the nearest surface, which was fine with me.

I fucked her so hard she screamed, but when I came, it was hard and fast; a glorious rush of release as I spilled myself deep inside her.

Fortunately, the little bitch gets off on men being desperate for her, so she came before I did.

After that, I explained what my suspicions were and gave her the sample of shampoo. While her machines were analyzing it, she climbed up onto me, wrapped herself around me and pushed down onto my still-hard cock and rode me. I held her hips tightly and thrust vigorously. We were standing in the middle of the room, with nothing to brace us, and it was _good_.

Once again, I fucked her full of my come. Angry, aroused, I immediately put her down on the floor and used her again, rutting between her thighs. Luckily for me, she was so wet from my come and hers that even though she wasn't _quite_ in the mood anymore, she wasn't dry.

I had fucked enough to take the edge off, but was still contemplating another round, when her machines began beeping and she told me they were done. I was anxious to find out the verdict, and so I got off of her and she – half-naked and her thighs shining with my semen – went to read the reports.

She told me that the shampoo was loaded with enough sexual-enhancement drug to cause a bull elephant heart failure. She said that whoever put it in there was counting on the drug having just enough affect on a monster-dragon like me to have me perpetually horny (which it did).

Then she said: "If Spicer's had some of this, his heart is going to explode in his chest. If you still wanna fuck his ass, you better do it before he dies. Unless you're into that kind of thing."

Disgusting little freak.

I left her immediately and went to check on Spicer. As soon as I opened the door, he leaped onto me, impaled himself on my cock (YES, I WAS STILL HARD, GODSDAMN IT), and in only three hard thrusts of his hips, he was arching and screaming as he came wildly.

Roaring my hatred and fury, I crushed him against a wall and fucked him hard for my own release.

He begged me for more and because of the drugging, I could not control myself. I gagged him so I wouldn't have to listen to him, put him face down on the bed, and kept him that way as I used him until we were both worn out.

Once he was unconscious (not dead), I went to my bathroom and threw out all of my bathing products and then simply cleaned myself with warm water.

Then, I went to the Fountain of Hui and the Eagle-Scope for answers, and saw Wuya (whom I had already suspected) sneaking into my bathroom and putting powder into my shampoo, shaking the bottle to make certain the chemical mixed in thoroughly.

Once that was done... I attacked.

I went after Wuya with every ounce of fury I felt at the moment.

She had to pull every trick in the book to escape me, but not without a few broken ribs, a cracked jaw, a claw gouge across her torso that she just barely twisted aside from, and a bloody nose.

She also knows she is not ever welcome into my palace (or the Land of Nowhere entirely!) ever again. If she tries to cozy up to me, I will kill her and she knows it.

Once that was done... I turned on Spicer.

He is now gone from here; him and all of his things. Gone back to the mansion where he belongs.

He should never have become my whore. That weak, weapon-dependent, untried _boy_. So desperate to be tolerated that he allowed me to turn him into a _filthy slut_ just to earn my favor.

The dirty, weak-willed slut is now gone and he shan't be back. I would ask "What was I thinking to settle for SPICER?" but it is obvious that I wasn't thinking with the _right_ head – or at all.

It was the drugs, and they are now gone from the palace and my body.

That this place seems a little too quiet, a little too cold and boring, is only because I have spent the last two months in bed with another person to talk to.

I shall adjust back to normal soon, I am certain of it.

The only reason I have not threatened Spicer with death is that he, too, is as much a victim in all of this as I was. I will not punish him for it.

Though, if I find out he knew about the drugging and took advantage of me, _then_ there will be retribution.

Gods damn that witch to the foulest depths of hell! And people _wonder_ why I prefer to be a recluse!

Still, Spicer and I have that deal that I shall provide him with SGW and he shall duplicate them with technology. We had amended the deal to the one list of SGW that we'd decided upon, so that way I am not bound to provide him with _all_ of them. Once this list is completed, I shall have to decide if I wish to continue or not.

........Fuck me _running_. I was thinking, as I wrote the previous sentences, that I now owe Spicer the Changing Chopsticks, and remembered that today is his eighteenth birthday.

I hate that I feel bad about the misery he is being forced to endure for his birthday.

Yet another reason to violently murder Wuya – as if I needed any more reasons.

 _Addendum:_

I would like to claim that Jack's little performance of calling Pedrosa's name when masturbating did not bother me in the least because of how obvious a revenge ploy it was.

Diol has reminded me that even though I lie to others, I have always been brutally honest with myself.

Besides, the completely demolished sparring room and the injured warriors rather attests to my foul mood.

That pissy little bitch Spicer... he _knew_ that our sexual relationship would terminate someday!  >=(

There's no call to _cheapen_ it just because I came to my blasted senses!


	90. Thursday, April 2, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 18 (the Changing Chopsticks on loan to Spicer)  
Monks Annoyed: Certainly Pedrosa is.  
Cupcakes Consumed: 0 (couldn’t face them)

Today has... passed.

That is all that is decent that can be said for it.

Pedrosa stopped by to show me the recent news footage/clippings/soundbytes/what-have-you of Spicer's marketing of the Tech Eye of Dashi as a world-wide power source. Jack has now become an overnight success; literally a rising star as he acquires fame and fortune and everything that goes with it.

All Pedrosa had to say was: "Now that you're not fucking him anymore, how about it?" and patted his crotch with a smirk.

He couldn't even _scream_ he was in so much pain when I literally kicked him out of my house – right where it hurts a man the most.

The reason he assumed (correctly) that Spicer and I were no longer bed-partners is the image in a newspaper clipping that Pedrosa had brought along with him.

Jack... sitting at a table somewhere... with a pretty young man who has similar taste in clothing.

The same young man I'd already witnessed him holding hands with, kissing, and sucking off in an alley.

*sigh*

Perhaps I erred in letting him go so soon...


	91. Friday, April 3, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 52 (the Changing Chopsticks on loan to Spicer)  
Monks Annoyed: YES. If _I_ have to be cranky, everyone else is going to be bloody _miserable_.  
Cupcakes Consumed: 0 (saving them)

  
I have tried to behave as normally as I know how because, really, I feel so weak and foolish in that I haven't really managed to actually get _back_ to normal by now.

I meditated (tried to), sparred (tried to, but my warriors all refused), ate breakfast (tried to, but I _miss_ having my personal chef), tried-------

Oh, dragon hells. I just realized that I swore to Spicer that if our SEX relationship ever ceased, he'd _still_ be my personal cook!

Essentially, I broke my word.

However... he is feeling quite jilted. If presented the opportunity, the little fool might have decided to poison me.

At any rate, I decided to go out for a little while, but I could not decide _where_ I wanted to go. Everywhere in the world I went, I was dissatisfied. I even went to the Xiaolin Temple to raise a ruckus, but not one of them would come out to meet me. A note was thrown out with a rock that said what I had done to Pedrosa had been shameful and they would not acknowledge me until I apologized.

So, I set a few buildings on fire, broke the Vault apart as if it were made of Legos, and took every last SGW they had – 34 of them.

 _Apologize_. _ME_ , apologize?

What part of _EVIL_ did they _not_ get? Them _and_ Spicer?

So much for all his talk about being willing to do anything for me, put up with anything _from_ me.

I hate to admit it, but I am so confused. I want Spicer back, but I don't want him back because I know he'll be sullen and resentful and he'll be _expecting_ things from me that I am in no mood or position to give.

But why do I want him back (besides his skills as a cook, of course)? Was I not just saying that I would never have touched him without the drugs making me so desperately horny? _What_ do I want him back for?

I need to talk with someone about this.

But who?


	92. Saturday, April 4, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 52 (the Changing Chopsticks on Loan to Spicer)  
Monks Annoyed: >=D  
Cupcakes Consumed: 1 (couldn’t resist!)

Phyllis Spicer was of no use to me 66 years ago, but today, she is of invaluable help.

She also keeps a hefty supply of McMillan's Golden Reserve whisky that makes my tongue sit up and beg for more.

Since she straightened out her grandson's head so swiftly over the whole Bean-masquerading-as-me incident, I thought she might be of help to me in this regard.

Basically, she called me three kinds of idiot in _nine_ different languages for throwing Jack away so carelessly. She said my fear-based responses were going to lose me one of the best and prettiest whores of my long-life if I foolishly held onto my pride.

I was quick to remind the impertinent old crone that: A) I do _not_ fear mere mortals, and B) that was her _grandson_ she was calling a whore!

Phyllis: "Correction: I am calling my grandson _Chase Young's_ whore. It is a position that he and I both consider honorable. Or we _did_ until you threw him away like the tradition-bound relic that you are."

A shouting match occurred during which she let me know that I have an abysmal track record at not recognizing prime consort material when I had it (and, coincidentally, she's a widow so would I like to try it on with a GMILF? She had to explain what that term meant and I had to vomit almost immediately) and I roared back at her that I obviously knew and that's why she never succeeded with me.

She then floored me by yelling: "My Jack was nice enough to knock the cobwebs off your balls with his virginity and _you_ responded by throwing a tantrum! _Wuya_ is the one that did you wrong – not my Jack! He may be a late bloomer, but he knows better than to try that nonsense with you! But there you go, blaming the victim!"

What shocked me was that she used the word "victim" and it wasn't about _me_.

"Are you _insane_ , old woman? _I'm_ the victim, here!"

"So is Jack," Phyllis growled back at me. "You're _both_ victims in this – and _you know it_. Jack would have been better off if he'd never gotten a taste of you in bed than have that taste and be subjected to this shabby treatment. Still... you _are_ evil, and what's darker than lashing out and taking your anger out on the undeserving?"

I was so stunned that there was nothing I could say to that for a long while. We sat in silence in her parlor, sipping perfectly aged whisky, while I tried to make my brain think again.

Of course, she asked me why was I bothering her about it; what was I hoping to get out of talking with her? I finally admitted that she seemed highly adept at putting fractured minds back together and wanted to know if she could help me clear up my mess.

For a price ( _not_ sexual, thank the gods), she was willing to help me and began asking questions.

Thanks to her unabashed nosiness, I now realize at least one crystal clear fact:

Jack Spicer was the best same-sex _sex_ I'd had in a long-long-long-long- _long_ time, and I wanted him back in my bed.

 _And_ my kitchen, because really...? The cupcake situation is getting dire.

Phyllis pointed out the obvious: With Jack now a powerful force in the world in his own right, with the potential to become even more so, _why_ would he want to settle for being my whore and chef when he could have his own servant to fuck with?

I had no answer then, I have no answer now beyond this: Jack Spicer claimed to be _in love_ with me, and I believe him.

I am Heylin, but I know love. Evil _can_ love; it's simply a darker, greedier, more volatile love than the sweet little romantic notions the Xiaolin think of. That being said, I understand love – and I know how powerful it is. Jack is in love with me, and that is not so easy to get over as all that.

I told Phyllis I wanted him back with me and left it at that.

She advised me to apologize to him, as that would get his attention like nothing else would: Chase Young – apologizing? Oh, dear!

So, I sent him a dark pink rose and a note apologizing for how abruptly I tossed him out. I left it on his pillow, where he would find it when he woke up.

I waited, watching via the Eye Spy Orb. Finally, he woke up. He saw the rose, read the note... and then, put it down and walked away.

I was so infuriated that Spicer had dared to spurn me that I took the rose and note back. I very nearly _BURNED_ them to a horrible crisp, but decided I had best keep them to remind me to not let my guard down around him again!

And then, the most amazing thing happened!

Spicer grew a pair and brought the fight to _me!_

One moment, I was poring over highly detailed revenge plans in my mind. The next moment, I suddenly had a _very_ angry young albino man in my face, ranting about my various levels of insensitivity.

He screamed at me about taking his virginity and forty-five days of his life, only to then turn around and throw him aside like useless garbage as punishment for the shit somebody _else_ had done to me. Jack _also_ had a lot to say about how meager my apology was. All of the damage I'd done to him, and all he got was one rose and a half-assed apology that was rescinded before he could even have time to _think_ about it?!

Jack knows a _lot_ of words, it seems, and can spew them forth at a decibel level that could shatter _paper_ – and keep that going for as long as he wants.

Still, he had a very good point. I had done him wrong – had broken my word to him – and so now owed him the time to think about it (even if my pride was rankled at the very idea).

I told him I would let him deliberate on accepting the apology or not (I gave him back the rose) and then, I bared my fangs, narrowed my eyes, and let a fraction of my power electrify the air around us as I leaned very much into his space and advised him to not _ever_ talk down to me like that again.

A very tight and talented ass he might possess, but he is still far beneath me in power, and we both know it. He is a mortal boy, just barely into his manhood, while I am a tried-and-true Heylin Lord.

Still, I shall let his little lapse in judgment pass for now. He is distraught, after all.

Now, I wait to see if my sex-toy is coming back to me or not.


	93. Sunday, April 5, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574 (soon to be 1,575)  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 52 (the Changing Chopsticks on loan to Spicer)  
Monks Annoyed: HA HA HA HA HAAAAAAAA!!!!!  
Cupcakes Consumed: 3 (I’m willing to start eating them again now that I’m certain the maker of them shall be returning to me)

I have only just returned from Spicer's bedroom.

No, _not_ for sex – for a massage.

 _No_ , not for me – for him.

It occurred to me as I was reading back through the entries of the past two months (really – I called _Jack_ a pottymouth? This journal could be used as the script for a porn film!) that his love of me and willingness to do anything for me might have been tarnished slightly, and it was time to polish him so he will be willing to serve me again.

Even the greatest tool will be ruined if they are not properly maintained, after all.

At any rate, I spent the day meditating, planning, and defending myself from irritable monks. Apparently, the young Dragons are not _happy_ that I cleaned them out of Shen-Gong-Wu and came to retrieve their "rightful property." I asked them what made the SGW (which go to whoever claims them in whatever manner) _their_ rightful property.

Their argument, boiled down, goes like this:

"We are the Xiaolin Monks! We are agents of Good and Righteousness! ...and that's all you need to know."

I don't know _how_ I managed it, but I held back my amusement as I proceeded to inform them – using magic to provide visual proof – of every dark, evil, thuggish thing they've done in the five years since we've met.

A half-hour later, their jaws were all sagging downward and they looked so _horrified_.... it was _beautiful_ , truly beautiful.

I then blasted them all out of my house in a burst of power and haven't heard from them since.

Which is fine, because I spent about fifteen minutes or so curled up on the floor, laughing so hard I could hardly breathe. >=D

I kept to myself for the rest of the day, indulging in giggle fits as the memory of monk-horror rose up every now and then, and then I re-read my journal and got the notion to check in on Spicer.

A good thing I did, too, because he was already in bed with Finnian in his hair, and Jack looked like he'd been run over by a locomotive.

I noticed the tell-tale signs of a tension headache and decided that I could earn myself some "brownie points" by easing his pain. I gathered up a container of massage oil and headed over.

Finnian began squeaking when he saw me and Jack opened his eyes, saw me, and began glaring. A judicious application of magic, and suddenly, Spicer was face-down in bed, naked, with his rat _still_ in his hair.

Then I (also naked) straddled his thighs, coated my hands with oil, and began massaging.

The pleasured groan that ripped out of him was highly erotic, but I kept this interaction ethically clean. I worked the tension knots out of his neck and shoulders, but it wasn't until I began rubbing his back that he finally managed, in a slurred voice, to ask me what the hell was I doing?

"It should be obvious to a genius like you, Spicer," I teased him, "that I am _massaging_ you."

" _Duh_ ," he growled back at me, "but _why?_ "

I let him know that I'd decided to check in on him, saw how uncomfortable he was, and thought perhaps I could ease his discomfort while also sharing an amusing story with him. He snorted disdainfully (my real purpose for being so kind to him was apparently quite obvious) but he asked me what was so funny.

I told him about what I'd done the monks earlier today. I had only just mentioned the part with visual aids when he began cracking up with laughter!

The pair of us laughed like ninnies for so long that Stone came to check on us. He was _not_ thrilled to see me, but made certain I wasn't there to harm his brother. I reassured him I was not, Jack promised to tell him the funny story later, and then Stone left and I not only locked the door but re-soundproofed the room.

After I finished the story and Jack laughed himself to tears, I continued massaging him (his backside, thighs, and legs desperately needed it, if the tension knots I felt were anything to go by) and invited him to tell me about his day. He hesitated, but eventually told me about his parents, their bankruptcy, and their attempt at blackmailing him.

He also told me about how _he_ blackmailed _them_ into changing their tune. I have to admit: I am _proud_ of Jack. To threaten his own parents with murder if they didn't stop antagonizing him and then to follow it up with a threat to expose them as neglectful parents and somehow making it seem _worse_ than being murdered... Oh, Jack.

I told him how pleased I am with his progress in becoming truly evil. Turning against family is usually the hardest thing to do in the process of becoming evil, but Spicer has done so beautifully.

"Yeah, well, it was easy with them," Jack muttered into his pillow as I stroked my oil-slick hands up and down the length of his back. "I love 'em 'cause they're my parents, but... I don't _like_ them. I don't really _know_ them all that well. Now, if it'd been Granny... that would be hard, 'cause even though she wants me to be evil and it would make her happy, I don't want to hurt her. I love her so much."

I told him: "I can sympathize. Dashi drove me mad on a daily basis with his silly antics, but when I turned to evil and we had to fight each other..."

Jack made a sound of sympathy and stroked one of his feet clumsily against my leg, so I am pleased that my massaging him earned me at least that measure of his concern.

"Now, if it had been my creepy uncle..." Jack then said, his voice trailing off suggestively, and I laughed. I told him all about how, after I'd turned to evil, Uncle Minzhe and I had run into each other in a village a few provinces over. He'd all but soiled himself as he groveled for the chance to touch me and I...?

Set him on fire with a snap of my fingers.

I lit the flame on his groin, specifically, and kept it contained there until his penis had crisped to a blackened cinder and then let the flame spread to the rest of him.

I don't know _what_ that crazy pervert did to my brother, but Dashi was never the same after that, and besides – it felt _amazing_ to hear Minzhe screaming in pain and terror.

Jack seemed equal parts horrified and awed, but he said nothing beyond "icky bastard probably deserved it" and then stayed silent until I asked him how his newfound fame and fortune were settling with him.

He told me he rather liked it. He was already disgustingly rich and everyone in the world wanted either to fuck him or kill him. Some people were claiming he was an alien from outer space and that's how he was able to make a perpetual power source and blah, blah, blah.

Then, with obvious intent at making me uncomfortable, Jack proceeded to tell me all about his blue-haired fling and the semi-sexual nonsense they've gotten up to. There has been no actual fucking, but there has been plenty of groping, kissing, and cocksucking so far.

I said nothing; merely continued massaging Jack as he explained in graphic detail how Allen had given him a rim-job while fisting his cock. I could smell Jack's arousal and he was beginning to lift his hips up toward me as he fell prey to his own tale.

When the story stopped, however, Jack realized the position he'd put himself in. His backside was lifted and presented and there for my taking if I chose to... but I did not, even though it was obvious that I was hard.

After a few moments, Jack settled back on the bed and sheepishly thanked me for the massage and he felt better now, really. I took the hint, got off the bed, and cleaned us both of oil with a snap of my fingers, and then got dressed again. When I turned back, Finnian (who'd left Jack's hair when he'd begun rocking his hips) was back in Spicer's hair and somber crimson eyes were gazing up at me from a snow-white face that was no longer plump with baby fat.

"Why didn't you?" he asked me point blank. "You could have."

"I could not have," I replied. "You have not given me your answer to my apology, yet. And you did not openly invite me to fuck you. When you are ready, you will tell me."

With that, I left, and as I write this, I am smoking a cigar.

I am confident that, soon, I shall have Spicer back in my bed where he belongs.


	94. Monday, April 6, 4707

Years Lived: Almost 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 52 (the Changing Chopsticks on loan to Spicer)  
Monks Annoyed: HEE hee hee! >=3  
Cupcakes Consumed: 2 (being very careful NOT to run out before Spicer comes back)

Today, I sent the monks a scrapbook record of their evil deeds.

When they destroyed the first copy, I sent another.

And then another.

And then _another_ …

I also sent copies to Jack and to Katnappé. I’m sure they’ll love using it as a visual reference.

Speaking of Katnappé, she has invited me back to see the cloning experiment, though she admits there’s nothing much going on at the moment. She simply wants me to fuck her.

I’m tempted. My body has returned to normal, of course, but that still leaves me with a healthy libido and I know how good it feels to fuck her.

On the other hand, I want my “first time” in how many days to be with Spicer as a celebration of his return to me.

We both know he’s coming back to me; it’s only a question of when.

Still, a few more pretty gestures on my part wouldn’t hurt anything.


	95. Tuesday, April 7, 4707

Years Lived: Only four more days to “1,575”  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 52 (the Changing Chopsticks on loan to Spicer)  
Monks Annoyed: Completely. >=3  
Cupcakes Consumed: 3 (v. good)

  
There's some interesting nonsense in numbers. Today, numerically, is 4/7/4707.

I have no particular reason for mentioning it; it just seems strangely interesting.

In other news, I have sent a subtle message to Spicer via flowers, with begonias and dark pink roses, letting him know that I am thinking heavily about all of this that we're going through and, yes, I do appreciate him.

Mainly, I appreciate his baking skills and his complete willingness to be my slut.

If he does not come back to me soon, I shall have no choice but to visit Katnappé for some relief. I _could_ masturbate, but I am really in the mood to be balls-deep inside a warm, tight passage.

..... _Damn it_ , Spicer! Get over your silly little pout, already!

In other news, I scoured the televised news channels and the internet for news on Spicer so there won't be any ugly surprises that I know nothing about. I found something I wonder if _he_ even knows anything about: That several Reality TV (possibly THE greatest waste of time and energy mankind has ever come up with) shows are vying for the rights to make Jack the star of their shows.

This ought to be entertaining. Even _I_ know that Spicer can't stand Reality TV anymore than I can. I may have to record the moment his refusal (certain to be highly amusing) shows up on television. Jack can be quite pithy when he wants to be.

....I still wish he were putting his mouth to entertaining use in a _different_ way right now, though.


	96. Wednesday, April 8, 4707

Years Lived: 3 More Days….  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 52 (the Changing Chopsticks are on loan to Spicer)  
Monks Annoyed: Knowing them, yes, still.  
Cupcakes Consumed: 5 (ate the last of them today =[ )

I am highly amused. I caught Spicer's televised conference in which he declared himself able to build anything and, oh by the way, did the human race actually _want_ to go explore the solar system in maneuverable spacecraft like the kind on TV or would they rather watch him scratch his butt on a Reality TV show instead?

Since then, nations all over the world have been making Official Announcements of how Reality TV has gone on long enough and it is time to focus on the more important things in life – science and exploration; renewable energy that can help save our planet from pollution and blah, blah, blah.

I went to visit Phyllis and, over drinks (the woman loves her alcohol), we talked about Jack. She says she knew he would be a great asset to the cause of evil the day he'd been born and had popped out of Jack's mother with that white skin and red eyes. I accused her of stereotyping based on looks; after all, no one would have suspected that _I_ would turn to evil when I was young.

We got into a philosophical debate about it while downing whisky like water, and talked more about Jack. I told her the progress I'd made with him and she declared he'd probably be back in my bed within the next three or four days. I mentioned that I'd prefer it sooner, but she reminded me that he _is_ eighteen now, as well as obnoxiously wealthy and popular. His ego and pride will not let him go running back to me any sooner than three or four days of making me wait.

I will put up with it, but I don't _like_ it.

The things I go through just to acquire a decent whore....

Mental note: Find out _before_ sexing occurs if he's still alright with being called whore. I'd rather cut any inopportune temper tantrums off at the pass.


	97. Thursday, April 9, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574 (for now!)  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 52  
Monks Annoyed: Probably.  
Cupcakes Consumed: I WANT CUPCAKES.

Today started out uneventful, but certainly did not _remain_ that way.

To start off with, I sent Spicer a note saying he would get the Mantis Flip Coin as soon as he let me know what he'd decided in regard to my apology to him. Immortal though I be, but I'm not willing to wait forever.

I kept mostly to myself after that – at least, until one of my crow-servants returned to me in a hurry, crying alarm. I tuned in with the Eye Spy Orb...

...and _there was Bean_.

Going after _my_ Jack!

I do not know what all was said; I never had time to ask. All I know is that, as Bean was advancing on Jack (who was telling him to GO AWAY), I arrived in a flare of temper and fists.

The fight was ferocious; bloody and frightening in its brutality.

Still, I emerged victorious as Bean, deciding he was at a disadvantage with _two_ dangerous men telling him NO, fled from the Spicer mansion.

I recall standing in the wreckage of the basement, panting and glaring upward, and growling, "No one threatens _my_ Spicer!"

That is certainly true. Once I lay claim to someone or something, no one else should ever dare poach from me unless they're prepared for a fight.

Two seconds after I _said_ it, however, Spicer was suddenly all over me.

He wrapped himself around me, kissing me so hard I felt my lower lip tear and tasted my own blood for the first time in – well, since that last vicious fight with Bean, but I digress.

I clutched Jack; held him close and kissed him as I lay him back on a metal table and rubbed against him.

We never took our clothing off; I never got inside him. Instead, we frotted against each other like wild things, desperate for our pleasure.

I kissed and kissed him, luxuriating in the taste of him once again, and after we both came in our pants (ew, ew, ew, ew, _slimy_ ), I tried to get him out of his.

That's when Spicer apparently came to his senses, damn it all anyway.

He smacked my hand away from him; glared up at me and told me no, that he hadn't made up his mind yet.

So, reluctantly, I stood up, peeled him off of me, set him down and smoothed his hair back, and promised to wait for his decision.

Then, I teleported away to my palace – but only long enough to clean up.

As soon as I had cleaned the semen from my body and changed clothing, I went to Katnappé.

I have only just now returned from her home. Not her lab, but her home. For the first time, I had her in a bed... and on a carpet and on a sofa...

It was different to have her on comfortable surfaces, but I didn't really care much beyond getting my hard cock inside her and fucking her until I was sated. It took hours and I enjoyed every minute of it, every thrust inside her slick heat, every orgasm I had.

Yet... it still feels hollow because it is _Spicer_ I want most right now. Intelligently, I did not tell Katnappé that. _Nothing_ is more evil, more vicious, than a woman who feels scorned – hence why I must always be extra wary of Wuya.

For now, though, I feel much more calm, more able to focus, now that my need for sex has been met.

....I still wish Spicer would hurry the fuck up with his decision!


	98. Friday, April 10, 4707

Years Lived: 1,574 until tomorrow  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 52  
Monks Annoyed: I really do not care at this point. >=(  
Cupcakes Consumed: See previous sentence.

I don't know why I'm bothering with Spicer. As angry as I am with him right now, I could strangle him rather than fuck him.

Or, rather, I'd fuck him until _I_ came, and then I'd kill him.

I went to visit him _again_ today. He was sitting at the kitchen table, staring into space, apparently deep in thought. I began rubbing his shoulders, thus startling him out of his thoughts, and asked if he'd had a rough day. Jack replied that he hadn't, but allowed me to continue massaging him.

I soon began nuzzling his neck, taking tiny nips and kisses, and told him how much I missed the tightness of his backside around my cock, his ever-so-skillful hands in my kitchen, and even how much I miss the scent of him on my sheets.

Apparently, that was all he needed to hear, because he swept the table clear, leaned me up against it, and sucked me off.

Not _once_ , mind you, but _three times!_

It was hot; deliciously naughty! We were in the kitchen, with sunshine pouring in through the glass doors that led out to a nearby patio, and anyone could see us at anytime. If there had been shelter anywhere within view of the house, I'm quite certain the paparazzi lurking about the Spicer estate would have retired rich within a matter of hours.

So, yes – Jack sucked me off three times, and yet, when I made a move to bend him over the table so I could _finally_ slip my hard cock into his hot, tight ass (where it rightfully belongs), he _TELLS ME NO_.

I didn't even bother saying a word to him. I simply left.

It was either that or kill him.

I was too angry to make use of Katnappé. I considered it, but just then, the thought of touching another young, arrogant genius made my flesh crawl, so I sublimated my frustration into sparring with my warriors.

I think my birthday present to myself tomorrow will be staying the fuck _away_ from Jack "Cock-Tease" Spicer.


	99. Saturday, April 11, 4707

Years Lived: 1,57 **5!** HA!!!!!!!!!!  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 52  
Monks Annoyed: By now, yes, as they’ll have the missive I’ve sent out to all of my enemies: “Not only am I still alive, but I’m a year older as of today! You have failed to kill me. Happy Birthday to ME!”  
Cupcakes Consumed: 5 (Happy Birthday to Me, Happy Birthday to Me! Happy Birthday dear Meeeeee… >=3 )

  
HUZZAH! I've made it to 75!

...For the 1,500th time. >=3

And what a _FANTASTIC_ birthday it was, too!

Remember yesterday, when it was written that I'd be staying away from Jack Spicer today?

I lied, apparently, and hooray for that!

If only paper could express sound. The sing-song tones of an obnoxiously smug dragon-lord would be filling the air every time this page was read.

I've got my favorite whore back! >=3

Although, I've been doing some thinking on that term. I think Spicer is much more naturally a slut than a whore. After all, a whore eventually says enough is enough; a slut _never_ says that.

 _Spicer_ has never said that. Even when he was angry with me and making me work for it, he _still_ dry-humped me and sucked me off.

Dirty, _naughty_ little slut.  >=D

So! I found, to my great surprise, a veritable feast of cupcakes waiting for me when I entered the kitchen in search of breakfast this morning. I realized it could only have been Spicer at work and, as I looked at cupcakes littering every single surface of the kitchen, I also realized he'd made up his mind (and was subtly apologizing for his disgusting behavior yesterday).

Rather than gorge myself to the point of bloated discomfort, I had my warriors neatly pack away all but five of the cupcakes into storage containers, and then sat down to a delicious, meat-heavy breakfast with a side of birthday cupcake.

It was only after I'd finished breakfast and was in my room in preparation of bathing and then going to see Spicer, that I realized I wasn't alone.

A glorious vision of white skin was stretched out over my bed. In one clever, long-fingered hand was the handle-end of a very familiar leash.

In the other hand was a bottle of Glow-in-the-Dark lubricant.

Spicer's pretty little mouth was open, in the midst of wishing me a happy birthday, when I pounced on him.

In fact, he got as far as "Hap—“ and that was that.

A mess was made of my expensive, 600-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets, and I _do not care_. I can afford to get more. _Spicer_ can afford to get more for me if I demand it of him, but I won't.

I shan't be so churlish as to make him _pay_ for the sex, after all.

But, it was so, so, so, _SO_ good!

We wallowed in bed for hours. More often than not, I had him flat on his back, his legs wrapped around my hips as I drove into him lustfully, just so I could watch him fall to pieces beneath me. Jack has this endearing little habit of looking _panicked_ when he feels his climax beginning. He'll look frightened for a moment, like he's terrified he's been caught doing something he shouldn't. Then, a startled, incredibly pleased grin stretches his mouth and he throws himself into his climax. Sometimes, he clutches at the bedsheets but more often than not, he clings to me, his nails digging into my back or shoulders as he struggles to get me even deeper inside him.

Bliss. Pure bliss. >=3

I am more relaxed than I have been in some time. Spicer is curled up in bed beside me, asleep, with his head resting on my thigh.

He has until I have finished the cigar I am currently smoking.

Then, I interrupt his dreams for something a lot more base. >=3

 **Edited To Add:**

Jack Spicer is truly becoming an evil little shit. He has managed to ruin my excellent birthday mood quite handily.

After another round of sex, I thanked him for a wonderful birthday. The sharp-tongued little snot then replied with: "Oh, no problem, Chase, really. I didn't have it in me to fuck up your birthday in any way even though it would've been karmically delicious."

Thus reminding me that I'd punished him for Wuya's transgression on _his_ birthday – not that I'd actually forgotten it.

Still, I am the Bitch Lord of the Mountain and got a little of my own back.

"Kind of you, Spicer. Still, that reminds me: I need to make up for the lack of a birthday present. How much do you want me to spend on you, my pretty whore? Give me a rough estimate. I'm sure we can work something out."

He is currently curled up and sulking, but I don't care. If he's going to start being mean and catty, he has to be able to take it, too.

......Rotten, horrible little pest. If it weren't for his skills in bed and in the kitchen, there's no way I'd put up with this.

Oh, balls. I supposed I'd better go soothe him out of his sulk, or I'll never get morning head.


	100. Sunday, April 12, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 52 (the Mantis Flip Coin is on loan to Spicer)  
Monks Annoyed: Hopefully! >=D  
Cupcakes Consumed: 8 (BIRTHDAY CUPCAKES; enough said)

Today started off fairly well. Cuddling Spicer out of his sulk last night did _not_ get me any morning sex to wake up with, but at least he wasn't sulking anymore and was in a fairly decent mood.

Nothing eventful happened much today except for one exciting game, which I shall get into later. Spicer spent the day fiddling about with the Mantis Flip Coin in his lab at the mansion (I'd dismantled the lab I'd built for him here) and returned to me at the end of the day when I invited him for dinner.

 _I_ had spent the day pondering his comment from last night, however. Jack is a young man and has just turned eighteen. It should have been a special occasion, but it was ruined by Wuya's treachery. I didn't recall seeing any birthday galas for Spicer, so I re-snooped in his past with the Fountain of Hui and the Eagle Scope. I was correct; he never had birthday celebrations.

In fact, on one occasion, he had to be revived with mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Apparently, one of his schoolmates had hooked an electrical battery up to his _metal_ locker and Jack received a near fatal dose of energy. Ordinarily, the prank _shouldn't_ have been that dangerous, except that Jack had a weak heart at the time. I would not have known that without the snooping.

Apparently, the pacemaker he'd been using at the time couldn't take the voltage from the battery prank.

Naturally, after that, Jack designed a pacemaker that could handle dangerous levels of electricity and electro-magnetic pulses. He hasn't marketed it, though, and I'm willing to bet I know why. Doing so would keep other people alive and Jack...? Jack does _not_ like people.

I'm not entirely certain whether or not Jack still relies on the pacemaker. If he does, then he's a fool thrice over for getting involved in the battles over Shen-Gong-Wu. Foolish boy... did he _want_ to die?

Does he still?

I have decided that, at least once, Jack should have a pleasant birthday. I know, I know... I'm being _nice_. Still, he has given me so much (as he should; I deserve it) and for his birthday, I gave him a metaphorical slap in the face and definite heart break. That's low, even for me.

At dinner, I announced to him that I wanted to take him out on an actual date to make up for his shoddy birthday. This will be a one-time only thing, of course. I don't _do_ dates, but Jack should have an actual celebration of his birth. Despite it being a recent thing, I _am_ grateful that he's alive. Gourmet cupcakes and perfectly naughty sex, all coming from the same person...?

 _Of course_ I'm grateful.  >=3

I also announced to him a new game. Today was the Christian holiday of Easter. During my snooping with the Fountain of Hui and the Eagle Scope, I discovered that Spicer has an almost psychotic addiction to the treats known as Cadbury Eggs. He particularly likes the Chocolate-Caramel ones, but I also acquired the regular Cream version.

I told him I’d hidden a few dozen around the palace. For every treat he found, he would also receive an _additional_ treat.  >=]

Nothing motivates Spicer quite like candy and me. He found all forty of them _without_ cheating (i.e., using technology to help him), including the one hidden in the chandelier.

For every Cadbury Egg he brought to me, grinning triumphantly, I gave him an equally delicious climax with my mouth and fingers. Upon finding the fortieth one, and having _not_ cheated for any of them, I fucked him without taking my own pleasure until he’d come at least four times. Only then did I have my own climax.

So, it's settled: Sometime this week, I shall take Spicer out on a dinner date. Knowing that he can dance, perhaps somewhere with a dance floor where participants may dance nicely instead of simply humping in public (not that I minded Spicer's performance at the club on St. Patrick's Day). I'm not a bad dancer; I simply rarely engage in the activity. For Jack's birthday, though, I can bring myself to do so in public at least once.

For now, Spicer seems alternately shocked and thrilled and cannot seem to stop fidgeting. Going out on a limb, I'd say he's extremely excited that someone is openly acknowledging his birthday without turning it into a potentially life-threatening prank.

 **Edited to Add:**

He's _very_ excited.  >=3

Mmmmm... The taste of Spicer mingles well with the Cuban cigar I'm smoking.

But, at least Jack is finally asleep, though it took some vigorous effort on my part. Not that I minded.

He looks so peaceful and pretty, asleep in a worn-out sprawl with a smile on his face and my come staining his thighs and backside.

Hmmmmmm...


	101. Monday, April 13th, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 52 (the Mantis Flip Coin is on loan to Spicer)  
Monks Annoyed: *shrug*  
Cupcakes Consumed: 7 (I really should work at controlling myself…)

I used the pool today for the first time in a long time. Unlike Jack's mocking comment of "It must have been centuries" it's only been several months.

I do not use it for exercise. I use it for fucking.

I keep the pool so I may play sex games in a heated pool, but as I have not had anyone I wished to play with in some time, the pool has been dormant.

It got some use today.

First, after morning exercises and breakfast, I had Spicer in the shower. He was still pleasantly relaxed from the previous night's fucking, so it was easy to slip up into him after a quick application of lubricant that I brought into the bathroom with me.

We stayed in there until the hot water ran out (i.e., two or three hours) because Spicer wanted to show his appreciation for having discovered the mark I left on his inner thigh. He was very, _very_ appreciative!

Then, I took us to the pool a few floors down and aquatic fun was had!

I taught him how to play Fetch. >=3

Specifically, this game involves me throwing something farther and farther away for him to retrieve and bring back to me. If he does so in a specific amount of time, I suck him off without asking for reciprocation. It's usually been the case that my female consorts are more proficient at this game (after all, it is rare to find a man who knows how to lick a woman skillfully), but Spicer is nothing if not motivated to have sex with me.

I also played Tag with him, and that one involves him trying to avoid me as long as possible. Whenever I catch him, I'm allowed to fuck him.

Surprisingly enough, he eluded me for nearly half-an-hour. I was not expecting him to be as maneuverable in the water as he was. He doesn't believe me and suspects me of letting him tire himself out. He also made that crack about it being centuries since I'd last used the pool.

The last time I used the pool, I was fucking some Italian Mafia princess who'd dropped by to personally deliver a trade between her family and me. She was a luscious little thing; all sleek olive skin and perfectly proportioned curves... We played Fetch quite a bit. The Italian language is a lovely thing, by the way. I loved hearing “Sì! Sì! Faccialo! Lecchilo là, là! Più duro! Oh, sì, lecchilo, voi bello bastardo!” screamed in the heat of passion as I took my time with my tongue and her pussy.

I sent a nice arrangement to the funeral after she died in that car bombing from a rival family.

Since then, I have made do with Wuya and Pedrosa – neither of whom rated being allowed in my pool.

I wonder if I should tell Spicer all of this?

I'll figure it out later. For now, Spicer has told me that he will require Katnappé's help on his idea for the Tech Mantis Flip Coin. I shall pay her a visit to remind her of the oath she took to keep her silence in regard to my fucking her. I forgot to remove that spell on her after I so foolishly threw Spicer away, but now I'm glad I did, since I have my current Favorite back.

He is asleep now; worn out from leash-play in bed. I shall go to Katnappé now to remind her of her oath… and perhaps have some fun with her, too. Memories of Fetch with Noemi have given me a craving for the taste of a randy female.


	102. Tuesday, April 14, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 52 (the Mantis Flip Coin is on loan to Spicer)  
Monks Annoyed: Pedrosa will be if he finds out where I took Jack tonight. >=3  
Cupcakes Consumed: 0 (had to have room for everything else)

I'm exhausted, but pleasantly so.

I actually had fun tonight, taking Spicer out to dinner with dancing afterwards.

We went to a restaurant called S.O.B. or "Sounds of Brazil" in New York City. He wore a privately tailored black Armani suit with a yellow tie, a dark red dress shirt, and a black vest covering it.

I'm ashamed to admit I felt my mouth water at the sight of him.

Given what he was wearing, however, I felt I should give him suitable contrast. I wore a white suit with matching vest, a black dress shirt, and a dark pink tie.

The suit very nearly became ruined when Spicer decided he had to have me immediately. It took some careful doing, but we managed not to stain anything when I bent him over the nearest surface (which happened to be my throne) and fucked him. When he came, he stained the wood of the throne, but I find I don't care much. >=3

As soon as we'd finished cleaning ourselves, we began getting dressed again. He wanted to delay long enough to suck me off before we went, but I held him off with the advice that if this place has black lights, then everyone will know what he had done. He seemed pouty of that fact until I reminded him that the paparazzi would soon be lurking around once they caught wind he was there.

Jack agreed and away we went. Being rich and famous now (as well as having reservations), we were granted immediate entrance. Some young woman tried to act like she knew Spicer, but he ignored her and the bouncers kept her back.

Spicer seemed shocked that I would bring him to a restaurant named _Sounds of Brazil_ , and for a moment, I worried that I had erred. Then, suddenly, he grinned wickedly and said, "You brought _me_ here."

Me: "Yes. Yes, I did, Spicer."

Jack: "No, I mean... you brought _me_ , not... Rai."

Me: "Are you doing recreational drugs, Spicer? Why would I bring that fool here?"

Jack: "Well, you _were_ fucking him."

Me: "Yes, I was. But he was never worth an apology and putting up with cock-teasing shenanigans just to get him back in my bed."

It was at that point that he pulled me to him for a kiss that had several people clapping and whistling. With a very pretty blush, he let go of me and I smoothed my suit down as we were escorted to our table.

Jack dithered over what to get and I heard him muttering about prices. I gave him a nudge with my foot and, when he looked at me, I simply smirked at him and said, "We are celebrating your birth, remember? Get whatever you like. I, for one, am grateful that you live in the world."

Considering that as of December of last year, I was bemoaning his very existence, this is quite the turn around.

I could see in his eyes how badly he wanted to leap across the table for a public display of affection. Fortunately for the both of us, he refrained, and instead ordered a magnum of Louis Roederer Cristal and, to eat, the Xim Xim de Galinha. I chose the Jalapeno Sirloin Hamburger Steak and, after our orders were placed, he and I went out on the dance floor with the other patrons that were currently littering the place.

I cannot, for the life of me, understand _why_ Spicer was so clumsy in Showdowns when he moves like exceptionally well-written poetry on a dance floor. We danced the Salsa beat, the both of us sans jackets, as we moved around the floor. With every step, with every twist and roll of his hips, Jack telegraphed to me just how much he wanted to be in bed with me right that instant. He rocked and stepped in perfect rhythm as I replied to him with my own dance steps how much I wanted to be in bed with him, too. And I did! I couldn't wait for this annoying public appearance to be over and done with so I could take him home and utterly ruin his suit.

Why not? It isn't as if he can't afford to waste them, now.

When we finished the dance, we found ourselves alone on the dance floor with the other patrons watching. As soon as they realized we were aware of them, they began clapping and yelling their appreciation. Roses and pieces of paper with telephone numbers were thrown. I wanted desperately to burn them all, but I had promised Spicer a nice evening out. He was enjoying himself immensely if the pleased grin and slight blush were any indication.

We returned to our table. The Cristal was opened for us, poured, and the bottle (rather big; one bottle holding _two_ bottles' worth of champagne) was placed back in an ice bucket. Though we had not ordered any, an appetizer tray of roasted poblano peppers, stuffed with shrimp and cheese, were brought to us "on the house." Jack made the observation that it felt strange being so filthy rich, able to buy and sell oil barons millions of times over, and not have to pay for a fucking thing. He said it so blandly, so casually, that it was absolutely hysterical to the point I actually laughed out loud, which seemed to thrill him to no end.

From that point on, the little nuisance kept trying to make me laugh. We talked about food – our favorites, things we'd heard about and tried or hadn't tried or wanted to – and he kept slipping in these horrible jokes. The one about British food _did_ get me to laugh again, though.

Jack: "Have you ever noticed how weird British food is?"

Me: "Hmmm?"

Jack: "Well, think about it. Here in America, it's a eggs-on-toast, chicken noodle soup... raisin cookie. In England, it's Toad-in-the-Hole, Cock-A-Leeky Soup... Spotted Dick. Let me tell ya something: Anybody in _our_ country's putting a spotted dick in their mouths...? Rest assured, _bad_ things are happening."

Me: *fighting a smile and losing*

Jack: *sees it and moves in for the kill* "Think about it! Britain has to be the only country in the world where you can commit a felony offense just by ordering lunch!"

Me: *smile starting to appear*

Jack: "I'd hate to think what dessert would be like. Try ordering an ice cream sundae. 'Yes, I'd like some Caramel 25-to-life with chocolate sprinkles, please. Hold the cherry; I won't need it where I'm going'."

At that point, I gave up and just _laughed_ , which set _him_ off, and together we laughed like a pair hyenas while the waiters patiently held our finished entreés.

The food was superb, by the way. If I weren't associated with murderous monsters and dirt-poor (supposedly) holy (even more supposedly) monks, I'd highly recommend _Sounds of Brazil_. I greatly enjoyed my spicy steak and Spicer relished his bone-in chicken with a sauce made of shrimp, coconut, and peanuts.

Jack wanted dessert after that, but I advised him to hold off. He gave me a suspicious look, but readily agreed, and we went back out onto the floor for more dancing. When we paused to rest for a few moments, men and women both kept trying to chat us up, either about business (Jack), dancing (me), or sex (both of us). We fended them off politely enough, though Jack did take a few business cards, and then we got back to dancing.

Fortunately, everything had been pre-paid, so when the paparazzi arrived, we didn't have to linger for the check. Spicer and I went to the bathroom (so we could teleport away without causing a panicked riot), but Spicer couldn't resist. He dragged me into a private stall and knelt down in such a way to make it look like I was the only one in the cubicle.

Then, he whispered to me that he had this fantasy of sex in a public bathroom, and went down on me.

I simply could _not_ resist. Spicer was beautiful in his designer clothes and his lust for me. I held his head in a tight grip and fucked his mouth in lush, unhurried rhythm. Other patrons came into the bathroom and so did a couple of paparrazi. I flicked my fingers in a gesture and Jack's eyes widened as he felt my magic sizzle the air.

I whispered to him, very softly, while still fucking his mouth, "It is a light obscuring spell. So long as _you_ do not move from that position, or make a sound above a whisper, then we will not be noticed."

Then, I proved how evil I am. I slowly and luxuriously fucked Spicer's mouth and whispered to him how I wanted him to use his tongue, how hard to suck, to take me further in and _swallow_... I told him that I should have made him wear his collar underneath the suit, but that it was a good thing he hadn't, or I'd have leashed him and then fucked him right there on the dance floor.

With my fingers touching his throat, I could feel a moan starting, but I quickly reminded him: "Ah-ah! No sound above a whisper, Spicer, or we will draw attention to ourselves. Is that what you want? A photograph of your knees facing my feet and your erection so obvious in your trousers? That's what you want, isn't it? You want the world to know how desperate you are for me to fuck you...."

He pulled his mouth away from me, buried his face against my hip, and shuddered wildly as he struggled not to make a sound while coming in his pants.

He succeeded, just barely, and when he looked up at me with glassy eyes, I coaxed him to open his mouth again and slipped neatly back inside so I could take my own pleasure.

When I was done, and Jack was licking his lips clean of my essence, I tidied myself up again and then yanked Jack to his feet and up against me. The motion broke the spell, of course, and just as I heard the sound of a camera being gripped tighter, I teleported us away.

We reappeared in Jack's bedroom at the Spicer mansion. He was having a meltdown, worrying about incriminating photographs, but I reassured him that not only had we gotten out of there in time, but I'd flicked a spell as we departed that broke the camera. He's safe, for now, the little dweeb.

I then used yet more magic (handy stuff, though it feels incredibly like cheating) to clean his trousers and underwear, and then simply walked out of the bedroom, leaving my suit jacket behind. Jack skittered after me, asking what's wrong, as I walked down to the main floor of the mansion...

...and led Jack neatly into a surprise "party."

The party consisted of Stone, Foley, and the Spicer robots all leaping up and shouting "Surprise!!!!!" while surrounded by stacks of gifts, with junkfood on every available surface.

Even as he stood there, gaping like a stunned trout, I whispered in his ear to not overdo it on the food, as I still had dessert planned.

Then, I sent him reeling over to his brother, who greeted him with a bear hug, slapped his back hard enough to leave a few bruises, and then shoved an ice cold bottle of beer into Jack's hand even as he drunkenly shouted "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!" yet again.

I spent the night listening to geek talk, listening to Stone talking about how he'd totally given some assassin trying to sneak into the mansion third-degree burns, listening to the sounds of electronic havoc being wreaked as video games were played... in essence, I was treated to the spectacle of Jack having the time of his life all because one or two people gave a damn about him having been born.

He took my advice and refrained from over-eating, though he got a bit tipsy with the case of beer Stone poured into him. Yet, later, when I took him back home, Jack shyly said he would never have guessed I would know how to provide the perfect birthday gift.

"It's very simple, Spicer," I told him as I pulled the collar and leash out of a drawer in my bedside table. "I happen to enjoy having a fuss made over me on the day of my birth, so I used what I know to celebrate yours. That's the whole point of it. People are supposed to make a fuss over you for having been born."

"But... they don't," he said simply, and I felt something within me sour just a little bit. Not in annoyance, but a pang of sympathy, which does not set well with me.

"They will now," I assured him as I buckled the collar about his neck. "And now... dessert."

Dessert was a gallon tub of banana pudding. Jack took one look at it sitting between two silver candlesticks with lit candles, and began laughing like a loon.

I didn't mind. I'd made it look as "gourmet" and "extra fancy" as I could just for amusement purposes.

After he calmed down, we set about ruining our clothing with banana-flavored sex. I think my favorite part was when he coated my erection with a thick layer of banana pudding and took his time licking me clean while I held his leash clenched firmly in my fist. _His_ favorite was when I repeatedly coated his hole with the stuff and licked it from him.

We could not use it as lubricant, but I had made certain to have the banana-flavored lubricant handy so it wouldn't seem oddly out of place. I had him several times, in several positions, but I liked it most when I was kneeling in the center of the bed with his hips held on lap while he flexibly lay back and let me fuck him. He stroked his own cock and said dirty things about how he wished we'd done this there at S.O.B.; how he'd have loved to have been taken on the sink, with his feet over my shoulders, screaming his joy for everyone to hear....

I growled and let go of my control, just a little bit. I bent down over him and began fucking harder, faster, and Jack stopped talking as he pulled me closer and screamed like he was dying as he came on my cock. My own voice overpowered his as I filled him with my come in a glorious climax.

We finished having sex only an hour ago. Our suits are lying on the floor in shredded, banana pudding- and come-soaked piles. The sheets are horribly stained with food and fluids, and Jack is covered in bite marks and bruises, hickeys and scratches. I can feel my own back warm with the marks Jack's nails have gouged into me and I think my penis has gone completely numb.

I don't care. Before he passed out in exhausted slumber, Jack slurred to me, "This' why I don' mind you won't never love me. I jus' love that you're the best thing ever an' I get t' have you for a li'l while. Makes me the luckies' bastard onna planet."

Stupid, silly, infatuated boy... he's so good for my ego. >=3

And there we have it. The Saga of Jack Spicer's Eighteenth Birthday Celebration.

I hope you enjoyed it, Jack. If you're still my favorite whore this time next year, I'll give you another party.

For now, I will finish my fourth cigar since beginning this entry, and get some sleep. I predict I'll be sleeping in tomorrow.


	103. Wednesday, April 15, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 52 (the Mantis Flip Coin is on loan to Spicer)  
Monks Annoyed: Don’t care right now. ^_^  
Cupcakes Consumed: 6 (hand-fed to me as I lounged about, waited on hand and foot by Spicer… I could so easily get used to that)

  
Spicer muttered something this morning about it being "Tax Day" and needing to check on his parents; something about "cutting the whining off at the pass OH MY GOD I sound like Clay Bailey just fuckin' SHOOT me."

I feel like I'm in a strange re-telling of _Rain Man_.

At any rate, while Spicer was off attending to his useless parents (for reasons I cannot fathom), I came up with an idea that amuses me immensely.

Jack claims he cannot think of anything technological for the Mantis Flip Coin that hasn't been made already or can't be made by somebody of less intelligence than himself. His exact words were: "A retarded chimp obsessed with masturbating could make something technological out of this thing – and we know what that something would be."

He went on to tell me he thinks the Mantis Flip Coin could be turned into something biological instead; some half-assed idea of making a serum that will increase agility and leg muscle strength. As he was telling me this while in bed, he said, "Just think of how much tighter I could grip you with my legs while you're pounding into me!"

I must admit, that use for his idea alone merits what he's suggested, which is that he work with Katnappé.

Not that he got any work done today, other than calling his parents. Today, he and I were both worn out from last night's celebratory excesses. We mostly spent the day in bed – or, rather, _I_ mostly spent the day in bed. _He_ kept popping up out of it to run off to fetch me whatever I had in mind to use at the moment despite reminding him my warriors can fetch it just as well.

Jack is simply desperate to reassure me how much the "birthday date" meant to him. His scurrying behavior is hardly the mien of an evil genius. He needs to cultivate sophistication and polish and the belief that he has the right to tell other people what to do, how to do it, and when to do it, or he will not last very long as a superstar.

To see him so pathetically grateful for having a fuss made over him for his birthday... it's bittersweet.

But mostly pathetic.

And because I am what I am (evil), I cannot get this thought out of my head: Invite Katnappé over for dinner so she and Spicer can discuss possibly working together to discover a biological use for the Mantis Flip Coin.

Jack cannot stand Katnappé. Her constant cat puns make him crazy with the need to do something revolting to felines everywhere. I queried him about his aversion to cat obsession/ownership, because HELLO, I keep JUNGLE CATS. He let it be known that I'm cool enough to pull off "Crazy Cat Lady" ("Not that you're a _lady_ , Chase, although if you were I bet you'd be the prettiest woman with the tiniest waist and biggest boobies and... okay, shutting UP, now...") vibe, and besides which – _jungle cats_ , not itty bitty tabbies. Instant win, according to him.

So, knowing that Katnappé gives him migraines whenever they interact, I have this wicked little idea to invite her over for dinner _just_ so I can sit at the table and smirk to myself at having my two most favored sluts eating from my table. The distinctly darkly amusing part will be that Jack will not know that my cock has fucked his hated scientific rival on several occasions.

I might even fuck her the night she comes over providing I can come up with a suitable distraction that will keep Jack busy long enough for a quickie with her.

Oh, I do like that thought: Spicer, utterly clueless as he talks to Katnappé over the dinner table... and utterly clueless yet more when I disappear somewhere with Katnappé and fuck her under his nose....

Oh, yes. I simply _must_ do this now.  >=3


	104. Thursday, April 16, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 52 (the Mantis Flip Coin is on loan to Spicer)  
Monks Annoyed: Eh.  
Cupcakes Consumed: 3 (v. good)

Katnappé arrived for dinner in a slinky black ankle-length dress that hugged her curves (and let her tail blend in) quite nicely indeed. Jack, who was already on edge just thinking about her being within 100 yards of him, bared his teeth at her in a fake smile. I think he was desperate to growl and start barking, but I had already told him no, behave!

Besides, growling and barking would have made me think of the collar/leash, and just NO.

So, dinner commenced. She tried to get me to give her a brief tour (when she had her brief stint as my apprentice, I kept her too busy to snoop around), to which Jack snarled something about "casing the joint." She responded with another cat quip and I heard his teeth grind.

The two science geeks began talking about the project and Katnappé, obviously aware of his loathing for her cat puns (gods, don't we all hate them?) used them with obvious relish for Jack's discomfort. They finally haggled down to what was going to be done on the project and Jack stipulated 60-40, to which she replied (in cat puns) that it was nice of him to grant her 60 percent of the profits.

Jack then snarled back in cat-pun form that _he_ was taking the 60 percent and she could wither up and die for all he cared.

I teased him, then, about suddenly behaving like the evil genius he keeps claiming to be when yesterday he'd been nothing but a pathetically simpering servant.

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say.

Jack told me in no uncertain terms that he _is_ an evil genius and I could just shut the fuck up for all he cared.

Color me surprised!

Still, it was obvious that he was _not_ feeling well. I was rather hoping he would excuse himself and go to bed so I could finally do something naughty with Katnappé (who obviously hoped for the same, if the scent of warm-wet-fuck-me-now rising from her was any indication).

Just as the main course arrived – I had chosen tuna, just to be even more mean – Jack couldn't take it anymore and he excused himself. He didn't even _wait_ for me to grant permission; he simply left! A sure sign that he was unwell.

That left me and Katnappé to have dinner alone.

Once I was certain Jack had, indeed, gone up to bed, I swept the table clear and had her right there with her long skirt rucked up about her hips and wine staining her mouth with tartness.

After that, I finally acquiesced to a tour and took her on a meandering walk up toward mine and Jack's rooms. Yes, on purpose. One floor below, directly beneath where he slept, I put Katnappé up against a wall and fucked her, slow and hard, telling her that Jack was resting directly above us. She laughed wickedly, clearly enjoying the evility of fucking Spicer's current companion literally beneath his nose!

I made her come twice before I gave in to my own pleasure, fucking her hard up against the rock wall and filling her with my come. I escorted her to the main courtyard, so she could then go get the vehicle she'd arrived in, and had her _again_ , only that time, we were brazen about it. The rotunda dais, from which I greet guests, is open to view. Anyone can see the person or people standing there with very little difficulty. I put her on her hands and knees, licked her to ready wetness, and then slid my eager prick into her, eliciting a sharp cry of lust from her. She clawed the floor and rocked back against me desperately as I fucked in and out of her until, finally, we both came hard.

She sashayed out of my home, her long black skirt hiding her come-stained thighs. The knowledge that Spicer would never know what had occurred tonight aroused me yet again and made me eager for him. I hurried upstairs, cleaned myself, and then went to his room.

...Only to find him curled up in a ball of misery in pitch darkness, hiding beneath his blanket.

I went to him, hopeful still, but he begged me not to try fucking him because he feared his head would break. This surprised me. I know Katnappé is highly annoying with her relentless cat puns, but to be so affected by them is just shy of ridiculous.

Or so it seemed until Jack whimpered the name "Ms. Merriweather." That had been the therapist he used to deal with until I murdered her.

Suddenly, it made somewhat more sense.

I let go of the thought of sex with Jack. I fetched him seltzer water (the bubbles would make him belch, thus releasing gas and easing his stomach), and then simply curled up in bed with him, keeping him company.

The odd part is that I still felt strangely fulfilled.

I imagine that if I hadn't had those three orgasms earlier, I wouldn't have been so blasé about it.

For now, I shall wait for Spicer to get better, and then grill him on how he plans to work with Katnappé when simply being in the same room with her for fifteen minutes gives him a splitting migraine.


	105. Friday, April 17, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 52 (the Mantis Flip Coin is on loan to Spicer)  
Monks Annoyed: Eventually.  
Cupcakes Consumed: 2 (v. good)

I can't stop _GRINNING_.

Spicer has shown an evil streak that I fully admire.

This morning found him feeling amazingly better to the point he cooked me a delicious breakfast. Orange buttermilk pancakes, perfectly crisp hash browns, baked honey granola with strawberry yogurt (I never would have considered this, but oh MY, it is good!), the fluffiest golden biscuits I have ever had in my life, and some interesting little thing that he called "maize mush."

Apparently, its cooked cornmeal which, in and of itself, is very bland. However! Around the central bowl of maize are smaller bowls filled with things to add to it! Such as fried tomatoes, crumbled sausage chunks, roasted peppers and onions, bacon, and cheese sauce.

I had four bowls and was so stuffed I let rip with a belch that startled Diol and Bella who were lounging nearby.

Spicer laughed so hard he fell off of his chair.

During breakfast, however, I queried him on how he was going to handle working with Katnappé when only forty-five minutes of exposure to her made him deathly ill with a migraine. I do not _want_ him incapacitated! I want him healthy and whole and willing to serve my needs.

He chirped out that he had a plan and then served my needs _very_ well as he made up for the lack of sex with him yesterday by doing salaciously indecent things to me at the breakfast table.  >=3

I can't tell what, of the two things he did, were my favorite. It's a toss-up between the languid, tormentingly sensual blowjob or that, after he swiftly got me hard again, he simply climbed and straddled me, already slicked with oil. He'd come to breakfast _prepared_ for sex with me! He straddled me in the chair, lowered himself, and gave me a lap dance that put every professional lap dancer in the world to shame. I played along; tried to remain still without touching him, but I broke when he stood up just enough so that I remained inside him, but that was the only contact between us besides his hands on my shoulders. Then, the devious little minx rolled his hips, slowly, torturously.

I remember letting out some hideous sound. The next thing I was fully aware of was trembling as I rested over him, panting to get my breath back as I felt my cock throbbing with release inside him. Jack was lying on his back amid a mess of food and cheese sauce, gasping for air and shaking with his own orgasm.

I was so pleased with him that, as I gently withdrew from him, I kissed my way down his body to his half-hard cock, sucked him clean, and then let him be so he could get to work on his idea for dealing with Katnappé.

Four hours later, Jack returned to me holding a thin band of metal with an electronic light in the middle of it and a remote, claiming it to be the answer to his problems with Katnappé. I was curious as to how it would work and he gave me a wicked smirk and said, "Invite her over; I'll show you."

I was intrigued by that smirk. I've only seen it a couple of times, but I've learned that it means someone is about to get embarrassingly fucked over by Spicer. I wanted to see this, so I did as he suggested and called Katnappé to come visit.

The instant she set foot through the door, Spicer had that metal collar latched around her throat and activated. She tried to ask him what he was doing with her typical cat-puns...

...and was writhing on the floor in pain, her tail frizzed out, barely a second later. >=3

She was electrocuted twice more before shutting up and trying to remove the collar, but Jack gloatingly informed her that it was not possible.

Jack: “What’s wrong, Ashley? Cat got _your_ tongue? Well, that’s too bad, because I cannot stand you speaking in constant feline idioms, so while we’re working together, I’d rather you not use them. I knew you wouldn’t be able to hold up that promise even if I’d gotten you to make it, but there’s more than one way to skin a cat. That thing’ll go off whenever you try to say the word ‘cat’ or any other words directly relating to it. I’ll bet that makes you mad enough to kick a cat, but now that the cat’s out of the bag, your days of getting the cream by breaking my brain with your incessant puns are over.”

It was manipulation so evil that it was sheer poetry; beautiful in its perfection.

She was giving him this absolutely _horrified_ look and wanted desperately to beg him to remove it, but _couldn't say a word_ because she couldn't think of a thing to say that didn't have the word "cat" in it somewhere!

I had my warriors escort her out as fast as possible. They were barely out the door when I pounced on Spicer.

Honestly... how could I _not_ pounce on him? That was the hottest thing I've ever seen coming from Jack.

We'd been in my throne room, so I had him first in the middle of the floor, on his hands and knees as I fucked him hard and fast. Then, we moved to my throne, because his white skin looks so pretty against the pink velvet upholstery.

Then, I took him to bed, because I wanted to spend hours in comfort with him. We made it into my bedroom and that's when he leaped onto me, twined himself around me, and said huskily, "Up against the wall, Sex God. Fuck me up against the wall, _please!_ "

He got his wish in about two seconds.

 _After_ that, we flopped into bed and simply lay there for a time, getting our energy and breath back. I was dozing lightly, but I woke up with a wicked grin when I felt a warm, wet mouth begin sucking me. Once I was fully hard, Jack climbed on and began riding me while I told him how perfectly evil he'd been; how amazed and proud of him I was for what he'd done to Katnappé. I flattered him with praise after praise and it only heightened his arousal, making him move faster and faster upon me, until he began shaking and gave a harsh cry of pleasure as he came. I took my own orgasm and then pulled him down and cuddled him against me. He's earned the cuddling.

I shall have to keep an eye on them when Katnappé arrives tomorrow to begin work on the project. I'm sure there's bound to be more than a few electrical shocks. >=3

I shall also have a few of my warriors in the room with them to protect Jack, because she's bound to get a little hissy.

...PISSY. She's bound to get a little PISSY.

Gods of Evil, just thinking about her has me thinking in cat-puns! The wench is fucking contagious. >=(

Still, now that I'm thinking about animal minions... I wonder if Katnappé will try to harm Jack directly or if she'll try to eat Finnian because she knows it will hurt Jack if that happens?


	106. Saturday, April 18, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 52 (the Mantis Flip Coin is on loan to Spicer)  
Monks Annoyed: Who cares?  
Cupcakes Consumed: 9 (worth it, though!)

MMMMMMmmmmmm. Nothing like a day spent watching Jack put Katnappé in her place.

Truly, the girl is pretty and a dirty little slut in her own right. She feels very good on my cock when I am in the mood for pussy.

But _Jack_.... Jack is unique in so many ways! He is intensely albino. Instead of palest peach skin and faded blue or pinkish eyes, he has _pure white skin_ with a faint gray shadow that is, in fact, the blue of his veins beneath his skin creating a roadmap of lifeblood. He has _red_ eyes; brilliant, vividly scarlet eyes. His hair, which I would have sworn came out of a dye bottle, is in fact a natural bright orange-red. He is a brilliant idiot and a fledgling bird of prey in evil circles. He's a _perfect_ whore, but only for me.

So, when I watched him torture Katnappé with the electro-shock collar in an attempt to train her to obey him, I was more desperate for him than I've ever been - even when I was being inadvertently drugged.

Jack has sent Finnian back to the mansion to be watched over by Stone after I asked Jack what Katnappé might do to Finnian to get even for the zapping. With him out of harm's way, Jack spent the day training the cat freak to "heel."

I watched her try repeatedly to use cat phrases. When it didn't work, she threatened him. He then proved he can set off the collar with the remote. When she threatened to leave, taking their work with her, he countered the threat with setting off the collar wherever in the world she happened to be whenever he felt like it.

She _gave in_.

He held his hand out to help her up (she'd crumpled to the floor after several shocks). It was the _very same pose_ I adopt when I hand-feed one of my warriors or Jack. He was mimicking me!

Flattery! Spicer does it perfectly. >=3

She accepted his offer and struggled to keep silent since she was having difficulty speaking without using cat puns. Spicer proved himself cunningly observant and asked her pointed questions that required only a yes or a no, rather than torture her with questions that required more in-depth answers.

By the time their session for the day was over and she went home, Katnappé was rather frazzled.

As for me, I dragged Jack into bed and didn't let him out of it for at least six hours. There were brief breaks for the bathroom and getting drinks or snacks, but beyond that, I showed him my approval of his subtle sadism and evil genius behavior.

It's currently late at night and I'm enjoying a cigar while he curls up beside me for rest. Oh... I just glanced at him. Those pretty, creepy crimson eyes are open and watc—

 **Edited To Add:**

It is now an hour or two later. Spicer interrupted my journal scribbling by helping himself to my cigar. He's never smoked before, to my knowledge, but watching him experimentally puff on it gave me the urge to give him something _else_ hot to suck on.  >=3

He lay on his back, stroking my hips and thighs as I luxuriously fucked his mouth. Such a delicious sensation; slowly thrusting, working my hips back and forth, but with every slide in, I'm greeted by the curl and flick of a very talented tongue and the sweet suction of a hot mouth.

Jack surprised me, too. He could tell I was getting closer to climax and he slipped me out of his mouth. That shocked me. I started to growl in irritation, but that's when I heard him mutter hoarsely, "My face..."

I figured out immediately what he wanted and came all over him.

Sometimes he surprises me with how dirty he can be. I asked him why he'd wanted that. He simply blinked at me and then grinned and said, "I like being marked by you."

Since the material was there, I lifted a finger to his face and he held still as I traced my symbol on him, using his face as the canvas and my semen as the medium.

As soon as I was done, he pounced on me again.

He's asleep, now, and I shall join him in slumber soon enough. I simply wanted to record what an _excellent_ day this has been!


	107. Sunday, April 19, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 52 (the Mantis Flip Coin is on loan to THAT SELFISH SPOILED BRAT OF A NINCOMPOOP SPICER)  
Monks Annoyed: I WISH.  
Cupcakes Consumed: Hmph.

Remember how pleased I was with Spicer yesterday?

Today, that is gone.

He has denied me sex based on what happened today with Katnappé. She'd excused herself from the lab on the pretense of needing the restroom, but in reality, she came to find me. She tried to sweet talk me into making Jack turn off/take off the collar, but I refused. I rather _like_ having a break from the incessant cat puns!

At any rate, she was cuddled up to me, rubbing her hips against me in minute little thrusts, when Spicer walked in.

The look on his face was... stark. Barren. It was as if he were a slate that had just been wiped utterly clean, but his hand still twitched violently toward the pocket that held the remote to Katnappé's collar.

I decided to get cute and tease him. I pulled her close to me and asked him if it bothered him.

Jack: “Yes, very much so and some of my more primal instincts are demanding I arrange both of your gruesome deaths in a fiery explosion that looks like an accident.”

Me: "Why don't you just do that, then?"

Jack: "What the fuck _can_ I do about it? You're the most powerful man in the world! There's also the fact you're my _overlord_ , not my _boyfriend_. I can't tell you who you can and cannot fuck since I don't have any claim on you."

At that point, I felt like I could have died happy. Jack is absolutely _perfect_ as my minion. He lets me fuck him, he cooks for me, and on top of that, he does not try to own/control me just because he's had my dick inside of him.

Sheer perfection, I swear.

That's when he rudely informed me that nothing in the universe was going to make him stay to watch, set the anti-cat-puns parameter to only _one_ yard of distance, and left the mountain.

I was forced to keep Katnappé's mouth occupied for most of our fucking because she was suddenly free to use those godsdamned cat puns.

Jack was gone for a good long while, so I took the opportunity for slower sex play with Katnappé. She made a comment about wanting a bed, but the only ones currently available were mine or Spicer's. I gave half a thought to using his just for setting her free to speak in cat-puns, but... there was just something _too_ wrong in that thought. Instead, I took her to a long unused parlor (one that Spicer hasn't yet been in) and fucked her on the sofa there until I had finally had my fill of coming inside a woman.

Spicer refused to go back into the lab until she'd gone home. Once she'd been gone a while, he set about tidying up, though he had a grimace of distaste on his face and kept eyeing the tables askance. I believe he thinks I fucked Katnappé on one of the lab tables, but I didn't.

I had her up against one of the tool cabinets. >=3

At any rate, while he was cleaning, I slipped up behind him and began nuzzling his neck. I wanted to be inside his hot, tight rump; wanted to stroke his cock and feel it as he came.

Instead, despite my compliments of his maturity and my explanation that sometimes I felt the need to fuck women, he brushed me off!

I even made him a promise: I will not flaunt my dalliances with females in his face!

None of that mattered. He declared that, even if I went and bathed right that very moment, he was not letting my cock into his body when it had so very recently been inside a woman. Given that Spicer is entirely homosexual, he finds female parts to be rather disgusting. The fool doesn't know what he's missing out on, but that's fine - more for me.

However, Jack truly pissed me off with his reply when I again tried to coax him into sex.

"It ain't happening tonight – unless you're up for a romantic evening of rape."

I left his presence so swiftly I might as well have teleported.

So, yes. I am in my room, scribbling out my frustration with that overly-sensitive dweeb who is my current Favorite, though right now I can't think _why_. Here I am, with billions of spermatozoa demanding to be unleashed like dogs of war, and Spicer is saying _no_.

Just because I indulged in heterosexual sex today!

Bloody nuisance. Why the hell do I put up with him?!


	108. Monday, April 20, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulate: 52 (the Mantis Flip Coin is on loan to that AMAZINGLY TALENTED, COMPLETELY LOYAL TO ME GENIUS SPICER)  
Monks Annoyed: HA HA HA HA HAAAAA!!!! YES. >=3  
Cupcakes Consumed: 0 (quite a bit of ice cream instead)

Spicer is once again truly my Favorite.

He groveled apology at me this morning and, though I was not in any mood to put up with him, he explained that he didn't say no to me yesterday just because I'd had sex with a woman; it was that he'd _known_ that I'd had sex with a woman, and while I have every right to fuck said woman if I choose to (dragon-lord!), it distressed him psychologically because he'd constantly worry about if she was better than he was sexually, either because he lacks girl parts or because she might be better than him in bed.

I came so _very_ close to offering faux reassurance by telling him that in all my long life, I'd never met a greater slut than him (and it's true; I honestly have no idea why he was still a virgin when I took him back in February).

Still, we smoothed things over and to prove that I _am_ his lord and master, I had him right there on the breakfast table.

I fucked into him with short, hard strokes that made him cry out with each thrust in. Spicer was in no pain; it was simply that good for him because he loves it when I feel the need to be extra-dominant.

I came inside him and, for the briefest moment, pondered simply leaving him hard and wanting as punishment for a few hours for that snotty little stunt he'd pulled yesterday. I say "briefly" because even as I was considering it, Jack moaned my name and rolled his hips around my still-hard cock, and that decided it. I stroked his erection with my fist and pushed _in_ with my hips and that set him off; screaming and howling his pleasure as he came.

When it was done, I made him lick his own come from my palm and fingers.

It was a good thing we'd finished when he did, though, because just as we'd finished dressing, the monks burst into the dining room.

I was shocked at their condition. All four of them were covered in soot. Bailey had a cast on his leg, Tohomiko had bandages around her head and was clearly concussed, Omi had scratches all over his head and face, and Pedrosa had a black eye amongst other contusions on his face, with more on his arms.

And they were _snarling_ their demand to see _Jack_.

As it turns out, Spicer had gone to pay them a little visit when he'd left the mountain yesterday. He'd been so upset at knowing I was going to fuck Katnappé, but not wanting to damage his overlord's home or servants, that he'd gone to vent his frustrations on the monks with a pipe-bomb. As he was telling me all of this, Jack had the most ridiculously guilty expression on his face. The monks chimed in with how sixty of their elder monks were injured and half of their Temple was now fit for the rubbish bin.

That was when Jack decided he'd had enough and forcibly evicted them using the Tech Eye of Dashi; the personal weapon version he'd made for himself that was like a Super Taser. He sent them packing and I reinforced the palace against them.

Then, I demanded _answers_.

It seems that Jack was so distressed that he was losing his place as my favorite to _Katnappé_ of all people that he'd vented his fury and heartache the only way he knew how. He was worried that I'd turned to fucking _her_ because of sexual inadequacy on _his_ part.

I _quickly_ reassured him otherwise.

Within a minute, I had him face-down in my bed, the both of us naked, and his ass taking my cock inside of it. I couldn't keep my mouth shut. I growled to him about how arousing it was that he'd done despicable evil to the monks because of what I'd done to him, and yet, he'd remained so fiercely loyal to _me_.

It is a wildly exulting thing to know that I can be as mean and hateful to Jack as I wish to be and, rather than take it out on me, he will go out and destroy innocent people; hurting or killing them to vent any aggravation I have caused him rather than risk harming me or his place in my life.

Jack gasped into the sheets that I am his perfect Sex God. He promised me he'd never deny me access to his body; that the right to fuck him whenever I wanted, wherever I wanted, is _mine_ for however long I wish.

Perfect loyalty to me. Perfect.

Jack's declaration sent me into climax, but I was not done with him yet. I pulled out, put him on his back, and kissed him deeply as I re-entered him.

I gave him pleasure, made him come, and was close to my own climax when Spicer's cellphone went off. I magicked it into my hand to answer it. It was Katnappé, demanding to know why the doors were sealed shut against anyone getting inside. I locked eyes with Spicer as I fucked him, moving slowly, and told Katnappé that Jack and I were very busy and she should probably return tomorrow.

I didn't even wait for her reply; simply turned the phone off and tossed it to the bedside table before leaning down over Jack to once again kiss him as I sought the pleasure of orgasm in his tight heat.

Spicer and I stayed in bed at least until one in the afternoon. Then, he had to go make Baked Alaska for Phyllis (more like Bombe Alaska, since he splashed it in rum and lit it on fire), made one for me.

I pulled him onto my lap, handed him a spoon, and together the two of us fed each other the sugary sweet concoction in a display of companionship so sickeningly cute it was more saccharine than the dessert.

I also treated Jack to a surprise. I ate a large glob of the ice cream from the center; enough that it would leave my mouth chilled, and then went down on him. Despite the shock of the chill, he firmed up fairly quickly and, as is usual with us, the dessert became part of our sex play.

It might be easier if I simply mention to him that he should make a variety of flavored syrups for us to play with so we can simply eat a dessert every once in a while.

Jack has a wretched sense of humor; have I mentioned this? He waited until my mouth was full of meringue, ice cream, and sponge cake, and then made that joke about British food/desserts.

"Enjoying the Baked 25-to-Life? Maybe you'd like some Oops-I-Dropped-the-Soap Prison Shower Surprise, next."

I pride myself on being an elegant man (despite the filthy language I use when horny). Yet, after he said that, I sprayed dessert all over the table while laughing so hard I got the hiccups.

Wretched boy and his wretched sense of humor.

Gods help me, I'm still snickering at that foul joke!


	109. Tuesday, April 21, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 52 (the Mantis Flip Coin is on loan to Spicer)  
Monks Annoyed: I’ve no doubt they still are. >=3  
Cupcakes Consumed: 7 (not too bad…)

Spicer is bound and determined to keep me interested in him, that's for certain.

I was awoken this morning by a hot, wet mouth wrapped around my prick. This led to quite the morning workout in bed. >=3

Afterwards, I went off to do my exercises and went to the kitchen in hopes of breakfast. I found it! Plenty of meat dishes and Spicer. Fortunately, the stovetop was only mildly warm and not blistering hot, as I hadn't even _thought_ about it when I bent him over the thing for more sex.

No, wait... as I recall, it felt only mildly warm to me. Spicer was uncomfortable, but not burnt. He said it was _very_ warm. So long as he didn't suffer injuries, then I'm not worried.

Still, mental note: Be mindful of what temperature a piece of equipment is exuding when bending Spicer over it.

Given the amount of sex we're indulging in, I would fear that I'm being drugged again except that I'm not experiencing any of the previous side-effects, like headaches popping up out of nowhere. But, no... it is simply my usual libido combined with my wicked glee in Spicer's evil maturation and how tight he is on my cock. Sliding into him is a sensual experience that I have yet to find adequate words for.

After I thanked Spicer for slaving over a hot stove all morning by fucking him over it (ha! I am so clever!), I left him to tidy up and then deal with Katnappé. I stayed away and so Jack re-set the parameters on the collar to 100 yards and proceeded to torture her. I used the Eye Spy Orb to watch it all, naturally.

He taunted her with his status as the Favorite consort while she is merely a piece of female ass that I diddle on the side. Personally, I don't think it would have bothered her were it not for Jack being the one doing the gloating. He _is_ obnoxious and, as is such the case with obnoxious people, others do not want them to "win" at anything, or feel like they're winning, rather.

I think Jack is aware of this, which is why he shredded her psychologically and poured the salt in, which only turned her into a jealous woman, which is a dangerous thing to do.

She attacked him, but he used his matter-shifter to turn himself into diamond and the two of them went at it like ca—

NO. No, no, NO. NO ANIMAL PUNS.

Damn those idiots....

 _Anyway_. I do not want any portion of my home wrecked, so I broke up the fight. I told him to stop tormenting her, told her to stop trying to kill Jack for stating the truth, and then told them I expected them to play nice and stop fighting over who gets to use my penis when so they can get their work done and part ways.

Spicer has been disgusting in his obvious smuggery all day, but I find it amusing, too. Amusing and a bit flattering. He is behaving as if he has all the treasure of the world in his pocket when all he has is his status as my Favorite for the time being.

Ahah! What is that? I hear a tap-tap-tapping at my door. Either Katnappé has snuck back in for some bed-sport or my albino pet has come to me for victory sex.

I find it strange that I hope it is Jack.

 **Edited to Add:**

It was Jack. >=3

Gods, these cigars taste so good after an intense orgasm or three.


	110. Wednesday, April 22, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 52 (the Mantis Flip Coin is on loan to Spicer)  
Monks Annoyed: Yes; they’re still cleaning up/dealing with the after effects of Spicer’s pipe-bomb. >=3  
Cupcakes Consumed: 2 (v. good)

Today was a somber day.

It started out well enough. Katnappé stayed home to rest up from the damage done to her by Jack's diamond-fist punches which gave both myself and Spicer a break from her incessant growling and yowling. We went about our usual routine (sex, exercise, breakfast sex, lab/evil plan making, sex, lunch, sex...) although I had it in mind to try to get Spicer started on a physical fitness regime again.

I created a gym for him in one of the unused rooms because I do not see him becoming a martial artist like myself or the monks, but that doesn't mean he can't stay fit and I've noticed he's starting to get mushy soft again since he's no longer using the gym at the Spicer mansion.

I went to him to explain about the gym and that I would like it if he'd start joining me for tai chi exercise. Before I could say a word, he turns to face me with a somber expression on his face and asks me, "What's your dream-death?"

Naturally, I was shocked. I thought Spicer had been content in our current arrangement. Why now was he thinking about death and being annoyingly depressing? Honestly, I can't stand people who wallow in depression; who _enjoy_ being depressed and want to foist that misery onto others just to see who responds with cooing and petting and expressions of affection. That's when I start working on making them _truly_ depressed; _suicidally_ depressed! If you're going to be depressed, you're going to be _honestly_ depressed. I _will_ give you something to whine and cry about.

At any rate, I did not want to have a death conversation with Spicer. He's asking me how would I prefer to die and the ridiculousness of the question simply floors me. I sought _immortality_. I did not want to die _then_ , I do not want to die _now_ , I do not want to die _ever_. There is too much to discover as life progresses on and on. I do not want a tiny little chunk of it; I want to know all of it!

Still, Jack managed to coax me into having the conversation by assuring me he isn't depressed nor does he want to commit suicide. It is only that his mind sometimes locks onto one topic and goes into a death spiral, pun not intended. In order to break that spiral, he needs to talk about it. Naturally, I chose to help him just so we could get _away_ from the topic of death.

I had to think about it (death = DO NOT WANT), but I finally realized that if I were to die, I'd prefer to go out fighting. Specifically, I would want to die from a frontal wound delivered by an opponent who had honestly bested me. That would be an honorable death. Anything else would be cheap murder and I feel I deserve an honorable death.

Jack then told me that he wants to die slowly and in a great deal of pain so he knows _what_ is happening to him. He wants there to be clarity; to be aware of every single moment of his death because that way, he still feels he has some say in it. Even though he would die, he wants to be there for every single excruciating moment of it. He said that if he makes it to 40, he shall see to it that he does not make it to 41 by swallowing razor blades; a gruesome thought that turns my stomach.

I finally managed to get him off of the death topic by mentioning that he most likely won't make it to 40 given how soft and squishy he's becoming again, and brought up my original topic of conversation I'd sought him out for. We then talked about exercise and gym use and pool use (Spicer is adamant he won't be able to swim as he'll have a "Fuckin' huge boner just from thinking about you and sex in that Sex Pool of Awesome, because, seriously...? _Hot_ , Chase. _Very_ hot.") and during the discussion, we managed to arouse ourselves. I took him to the parlor that Katnappé and I had used (though I did not tell him that), now clean of dust, and had him there on the same sofa I'd had her on. I even had him kneel, facing the back of the couch, in the precise spot she'd been in, in the same position, and fucked him from behind simply because it gave me a vicarious thrill to be so subtly "cheating" on him. Jack certainly didn't mind any of it. He came hard just from being fucked by me, shrieking my name.  >=3

After a few more rounds of sex, I lit a fire in the fireplace and we simply curled up on the sofa (cleaned with magic) and cuddled together.

I couldn't stop thinking about Spicer's earlier topic of conversation, though. For some reason, the thought that I shall eventually lose him to death seems... horrifying. I have lost previous consorts to death. Every last "Favorite" I've had is now dead and gone, and that's fine.

But the thought of Spicer _not_ being in the world, even if I am not fucking him, seems so terribly wrong.

I don't know why and it is annoying me. I am eagerly looking forward to the days when this current batch of Dragons sheds this mortal coil, but... I do not want Spicer to go.

What am I going to do about this? Why do I _want_ to do anything about it?


	111. Thursday, April 23, 4707

No time for more right now. I’m in the middle of an important project. Will come back to this later.

I’m hungry. Where’s dinner? Fuck it, I’ll eat later. Busy now.


	112. Friday, April 24, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 52 (the Mantis Flip Coin is on loan to Spicer)  
Monks Annoyed: Probably, but I don’t care right now.  
Cupcakes Consumed: 0 (I don’t eat in my sleep)

Yesterday was an off day.

For one thing: No sex. None at all, with anyone.

I awoke before Spicer did and, as we were still in the parlor though the fire had burnt down to nothing, I decided he should be tucked into a warm bed and left to sleep as I had things I wanted to get done.

It didn't occur to me, until I was heading down to meet my warriors for morning sparring, that I realized I'd tucked him into _my_ bed.

Absolutely, that happened: I carried him to my bedroom, put him into my bed, tucked the covers over that soft white skin, and went off to do my exercises as if this were nothing out of the ordinary.

Perhaps that's why I did what I did today.

Ever since Jack assured me that he would ensure he would not survive to his 41st birthday, one way or the other, I have been... broody. The thought of Spicer's life-force not in this world depresses me. I was bored out of my mind until this generation of Xiaolin Dragons arrived on the scene. Omi was, unfortunately, the only one truly interesting.

Then... Jack.

From the start, I have never been able to ignore that wretched boy's presence. No matter where he is and what he is doing, I'm aware that he's in the world and working on something that will most likely annoyed the hell out of me.

But I can say one thing truthfully: He has never, _ever_ bored me.

Therefore, after exercises, I went to one of the hiding spots in my palace where I keep a Shen-Gong-Wu or two and pulled the Crystal Glasses out for personal use. The Crystal Glasses allow the wearer to see into the future. It has useful combat abilities, allowing the user to predict their opponent's next move so they can easily dodge it. It can see however far into the future the user desires, such as where someone will be within a few hours. Handy information to know if you're planning an ambush.

I have the skill, of course, to keep the Crystal Glasses from overwhelming me with infinite "What Ifs." Focusing my will, I looked into Spicer's future. And then another. And then _another_.

I glimpsed 1,000 of Jack Spicer's possible futures. In some he lived, in some he died, but the one thing that was the key to whichever one it was...

...was Immortality.

In every future in which Jack Spicer was not granted the gift of Immortal Youth, his life ended violently, slowly, and in excruciating pain.

That is why I spent the day researching.

The Lao Mang Lone was tailored specifically to me. If anyone else were to attempt drinking it, it would simply poison them to death from the toxicity of the dragon ingredient. Therefore, simply sharing my soup with Spicer (which I am not inclined to do _anyway_ , as that means less for me) is out. I need to find something that will enable him to live forever alongsi—

Alongside me?

Why did I think that? Spicer is _not_ my lover, he is my consort. My loyal whore. He is an obnoxious, egotistical, still-childish young man who has not really experienced life yet, and here I am thinking of chaining him to my side for eternity?

I shall have to have myself checked for possible drugging again.

That will be difficult at the moment, however. Katnappé is not best pleased with me (as if I care) because all day, she has attempted to seduce me into mating with her to spite Jack.

I have rebuffed her at every turn.

When she first showed up, it was just after breakfast. Spicer was looking as if he were considering having _me_ for breakfast, too (which would not have worked, as I was not in the mood), when Katnappé arrived. She ignored Spicer, settled herself down in my lap, straddling me, and began to rock slowly and suggestively over my groin while inviting me to do sinfully exciting things with her.

I stood up, dumping her on off. She barely caught herself against the table, but I couldn't be bothered to look at her. I locked gazes with Spicer, ordered him to get her to the lab so they could work on the Mantis Flip Coin, and then went off to my study to begin researching the many possible ways of gaining Immortality. There are several. I have looked for different means of it, wanting to get rid of my hideous dragon form, but I would lose too much power in exchange for a more attractive form of Everlasting Youth. As yet, it is not worth it. But there are options for Spicer; I simply need to research them carefully so he will be changed as little as possible.

Ignoring Katnappé, however, did not much stop her. Several times during the day, she scratched at the door to my study, murmuring invitingly about how much she wanted me. I sent her away with furious shouts or a shocking burst of magic against the door every time.

Eventually, she stopped pestering me, thank the gods. I realize that I'm like candy to these sexually prime young adults, but that doesn't mean _I'm_ always in the mood!

A long, long, LONG time later, Spicer interrupted me with queries about why I was still awake. I snapped and snarled hateful insults at him about minding his own business, but when I looked up and over at him... GRAH. He looked as if I'd just smooshed Finnian into a pile of rat paste.

Speaking of Finnian, I wonder how Stone is managing with him and keeping him away from Negriss.

At any rate, I apologized to Spicer. He went away for a little bit, but came back with cupcakes and tea, and while I was indulging in those, he gave me a shoulder and back-rub that felt so good it had me moaning.

Still, since he'd encouraged me to begin relaxing, my mind began unraveling; wouldn't remain focused on the task. It wasn't until Bella arrived to remind me of morning exercises that I realized I'd been awake for over 24 hours. That's when Spicer spoke up.

“Forgive me, my Lord of Chaos and Sexy Evil, but may I point out that you haven’t slept in approximately twenty-four hours and are looking particularly tired. May I suggest fucking over your morning exercises and getting some sleep instead?”

I must admit, I LOVE the new nickname. >=3

I considered what he'd said carefully, and then said something about evil everlords needing to be in tip-top condition. I snarled about the dark circles under my eyes and went to bed.

It is now some time in the afternoon of April 24th and Jack is snuggled beside me, sound asleep. I believe he has the right idea.


	113. Saturday, April 25, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 139  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 52 (the Mantis Flip Coin is on loan to Spicer)  
Monks Annoyed: Probably.  
Cupcakes Consumed: 0 (too angry!)

I am literally _ANGRY_ with _RAGE_.

I calmed down earlier, or at least forced myself to compartmentalize it, but right now, I feel the urgent need to murder someone grotesquely.

Yesterday evening, Spicer and I woke up again. We had a slow, lazy round of sex, and then he declared that he _needed_ sleep and he wouldn't get any if he stayed in my room because I'm "too damned sexy for my own good, Chase. I lose all common sense around you, O Lord of Chaos and Sexy Evil." The silly boy has figured out I like that nickname.  >=3

So, I went to the kitchen, had a late-night snack of steak and french-fries, bathed in a quick shower, and returned to find that my minions had changed the sheets and bedding. I snuggled in and went to sleep...

...only to be awakened at _FOUR FUCKING O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING_ by Katnappé who _DID NOT EVEN BOTHER TO **ASK** ME FIRST IF I WANTED TO HAVE SEX!!!_

I came awake to find myself being forcibly stripped (I'd put on black pajama bottoms and a black tank-top, as I dislike sleeping nude in case of attack) by the cat-freak, who was already naked. The arrogant bitch _BROKE INTO MY HOME_ and tried to have sex with me _WITHOUT ASKING MY PERMISSION FIRST_.

I was so enraged I went fully dragon, with the shreds of my clothing hanging off of my monstrous body. I flung the naked floozy out of my room and across the hall so hard that the impact of her body against the door woke Spicer up. I saw his door open and his white face with wide red eyes peeking out, but I concentrated solely on Katnappé.

She was screaming back at me about how dare I treat her like that, she was only trying to do me a favor, and blah blah blah. I let her know, in full roar (as she dodged the punches and tail swipes), that I do _NOT_ like rapists and _YES_ , not asking my permission counts as rape, and to _GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE_.

The stupid cunt finally realized she was in terrible danger and fled, screaming. Still infuriated, I then turned on Spicer, who had closed his door and gone back to bed rather than get involved.

I kicked his door in and leaped onto him as he lay in his bed. I was so ready to rend flesh; to destroy every last living trace of him because of how violated I felt. It didn't matter that _he_ hadn't done it. All I could think was that he is the same age as Katnappé and always desperately eager for my cock inside him.

I snarled at him. "I _know_ you were watching, Spicer! I saw you. Did it turn you on? Did it give you _ideas?_ Do _you_ wish to try _raping_ me like the horny adolescent you are, like _she_ did?!"

Jack truly is a genius. Rather than attempt to placate me with words, he simply _submitted_ to me. He closed his eyes and bared his throat to me, leaving himself utterly defenseless to anything I could have done to him at that moment. It wasn't that he trusted me _not_ to; it was that he acknowledged that he is _mine_ and whatever I chose to do, he must accept.

It was that action alone that saved him. I acknowledged that I was being unfair to him and locked my rage away from Jack. He did not deserve to be brutalized for Katnappé's foolishness.

I began licking his neck and nuzzling him; savoring the taste of his skin and the scent of him, biting him occasionally, but not enough to hurt him or make him bleed. I could smell his arousal and it shocked me anew that he would _want_ my hideous dragon form.

Pulling back, I stared at him uncertainly, wondering if he was forcing desire simply to save his own skin. Instead, Jack kissed my snout and snuzzled against me, petting and stroking my body firmly, and carefully fingering the leathery fringe that follows my spine from head to tail.

There was no disgust, no hesitation... Jack truly does admire my dragon form. I must be honest: I have no idea what to do about it.

I did not wish to leave his presence, however, so I simply lay down over him, covering Jack with my body as I let out a draconic purr of contentment. We fell asleep like that, and when we awoke again, I quickly changed back to my human form.

I nuzzled Jack, thanking him for being so smart and keeping himself from getting killed. I was too angry to have controlled myself without his help. I told him I did not want to lose my current favorite whore because the _other_ not-so-favorite whore was too stupid to be allowed to live.

Jack let me know he was okay with everything that had happened and then said that _IF_ I was in the mood for sex today (which he could understand if I wasn't), then I knew where his ass was located.

Why, yes! I do indeed know where it is.

I proved it. >=3

I needed to feel in control again; that _I_ had a say in what happens (which I do, but it's a psychological issue). Jack, thankfully, played along. Whatever I demanded of him, he gave me. He let me put him on his hands and knees and fuck him from behind. He let me have him missionary style, riding me, up against the wall... whatever I wanted. I even demanded he suck me off twice before

I finally returned the favor of orgasm. I don't think he minded, and it was so thrilling to feel him clutching at my shoulders and straining to get my cock deeper in while begging for me to come inside him.

In all, I had him seven times before my stomach rumbled so loudly we went for breakfast.

After that, I did not see him for the rest of the day. We met again for dinner and I discovered that Jack had had success with the Mantis Flip Coin experiments. He has discovered a potent weight loss formula that he plans to finalize and then market to the medical community for severely obese people. He told me that he was going to falsify his reports for Katnappé so she wouldn't know about it, and that when they finally achieved the results they are supposed to be searching for, he would then market both and give her only 40% of the take on the formula they create together.

"Also," Jack said with a wicked grin, "if she gets snippy or tries to steal anything, well... that's what the shock-collar is for!"

The sheer wickedness of his crafty little mind enthralls me! It also aroused me quite ferociously to know just how badly Katnappé was going to get screwed over in this little venture. The stupid bitch deserves it.

Still, it turned me on, to the point that I swept the table clear and had Jack right there on it. The irony that only a week ago I'd done the very same thing with Katnappé was not lost on me.

I think I much prefer this new table session, in which I thrust my cock deep and hard into Jack Spicer's perfectly tight ass and made him come screaming before I helped him make a mess of the table.

Grah... I wish he was here now. He had a gala to go to for business networking purposes. He asked me to be his escort, but not even for the promise of naughty almost-public fucking will I subject myself to that horror. So, instead, Jack called up his brother to go with him, which is just as well. If Stone is going to be in on the profits, he should know what's going to happen.

Hmmph. I wish Spicer would come back already. I want to fuck.

 **Edited To Add:**

Spicer came back, but I've changed my wish.

If I still knew _how_ to pray....

Damn it all, Spicer. Wake up. _Please_ wake up. Wake up and do not be brain damaged.

Do not be maimed, period.

 _Wake up_... please.


	114. Sunday, April 26, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 52  
Monks: BROKEN.  
Cupcakes Consumed: 0 (can’t even face them)

If I thought I was angry yesterday, it is nothing compared to today.

The initial shock of finding Spicer near death from a hellacious beating has worn off. I am still murderously angry, yes, but I am now once again calm.

Last night, a Jackbot came zooming up to me in a hurry, telling me it had an emergency message of communication from Stone. The robot then flipped some switch or whatever it does, and Stone's voice was screaming out through the robot's... mouth-thing.

I had no idea it was a two-way communication until I muttered about hysterical little boys and he snarled "FUCK YOU, LIZARD-BUTT!" at me.

Once we both realized we could communicate via the robot, Stone then proceeded to tell me that Jack was in the hospital, near death from a savage beating. I felt a cold shock run through me, but he informed me that Spicer had been placed in the Queen Mary Hospital in the west cluster of Hong Kong. I wanted to go there immediately, but common sense held me back. I asked Stone what had happened, but he said he didn't know. One moment, Jack had been with him, the next... gone. He'd searched all over, but it was as if Jack had disappeared into thin air. He _hadn't_ , though.

He'd actually disappeared into _thick ground_.

Bailey, apparently, had seamlessly opened a hole in the street for Jack to walk into and just as swiftly and seamlessly closed it over so that Stone had not noticed a thing. Then, Bailey had pulled the tiny pocket of rock through the earth into an alleyway a few blocks from the building the gala was being held at.

I discovered all this because I had this raging need to know: _What happened to my favorite consort?_

I spent the night keeping an eye on Jack via the Eye-Spy Orb, but once his condition was pronounced critical but stable, I turned my attention to finding out what had happened. Once again, I turned to the Fountain of Hui and the Eagle-Scope.

I saw the monks pull Jack out of the stone pocket in the alleyway. He was dirty, disheveled, and breathless.

 _Afraid_ , when he saw the monks and realized he was alone and helpless, with no weapons or robots at hand to save him.

They beat him.

They beat him _savagely_ , with their bare fists and boot-covered feet. Malicious joy filled their features as they pummeled and tore at him; vivacious hatred shone in their eyes as they relished his pained screams.

Pedrosa took great pleasure in stomping on Jack's crotch and grinding down with his heel. Jack convulsed and began vomiting, but Bailey picked him up and held him against the wall so the others could continue punching him.

It was Omi who delivered the blow to Spicer's head that might very well have brain damaged Spicer, which is why Omi is now in my possession.

If Jack has been broken irreparably, Omi will know torment for eternity.

Jack was "saved" by the appearance of a young black man crackling with electricity flying on a thin metal disk. It was none other than Static, the superhero from Dakota. Apparently, he tagged along with his friend Foley when the blond geek arrived here to spend his vacation with Jack's brother.

Speaking of Stone, he has not yet been to the hospital to visit Jack. Apparently, he has "issues" with hospitals and will not willingly stay in one.

Spicer's parents have certainly made an appearance. I will keep an eye on them to see that their interference is kept to a minimum.

Back to the monks and this Static person.

He interrupted the monks ( _still_ beating on Jack's unconscious body) by joking about them being the weirdest looking gang he'd ever seen. They were so _offended_ by his statement that it was disgusting. They told him they were Xiaolin Monks, doing their duty by beating Evil into a coma.

They also claimed that Spicer deserved it. I will concede that since he bombed their Temple, he had to expect retaliation at some point. They were not simply going to let him get away with it.

 _This_ , though... a cowardly assault of four against one with such fury that if Spicer lives, _without_ horrible damage, it will be nothing short of a miracle.

Static retorted that no one deserved to be beaten as badly as they'd done to Spicer. He kept them away from Jack, checked on Spicer's vitals, and found him to be quite badly injured. Tohomiko said that Spicer was asking for it, and again, Static said that no one ever asked for it to quite such an extent and since Jack was dressed for a party, it wasn't like he'd done anything to them. He doesn't know that Spicer bombed the hell out of their Temple, but that's beside the point.

When I was finished investigating, I went immediately to the half-ruined Temple, only to find the place completely engulfed in flame. Every acre was ablaze and every monk on the premises was doing their best to survive.

Static had Stone (completely out of control, screaming and flaming), encased in an electromagnetic force field while Foley was shouting at his lover, attempting to calm him down.

Everything went silent when I appeared.

The Xiaolin Dragons (minus Tohomiko, who was working to contain the blaze) were arrayed nearby, ready to fight Stone face-to-face. As soon as they saw me...

...they tried to run.

As if _that_ would have saved them.

I gathered the raging fires of the Temple to me and turned the conflagration to pure energy. I then set off the equivalent of a bomb of my own that sent a violent shockwave in every direction for miles.

I was the only thing standing when the energy dissipated.

I waited and, eventually, they all began to rouse themselves. I wanted them all conscious for this, so they would _know_ what was coming.

Fung's voice was gravelly with smoke and old age as he hobbled forward, intent on protecting his students. Chucky Choo appeared on the horizon; quickly arrived and dropped off Guan, who tried to tell me to back off.

I ripped the spear from his hand and used it like a baseball bat. Essentially, I "knocked him outta the park."

With him out of the way, I continued advancing.

"Do you know what your students have done to mine?" I murmured to Fung, keeping my eyes on the four Dragons, who were shaking in their shoes behind him, staring at me with wide-eyed terror. "They did not face him honorably. They captured him, disoriented him, and then beat him savagely _only_ once they were sure he had no means with which to defend himself."

They whined and cried in unison about Jack's bombing of the Temple, but I roared a wordless dragon-howl of fury—

Without turning dragon.

It shocked them enough that they shut up.

"Spicer set off the bomb in empty buildings," I told them. "He did not _intentionally_ try to _kill_ your useless old monks – or any of you. He was venting anger; having a temper tantrum. But he did not wage a battle with you. Had _that_ been his intention, I would have made him face you as an honorable warrior. He did what he did just to break inanimate objects. _You_ lot did what you did to _kill him_."

They whined and cried again, saying no they didn't, they were just teaching him a lesson!

"He is unlikely ever to learn it," I growled at them. "He is so badly damaged that _IF_ he survives, he will most likely be mentally retarded."

Which is when Tohomiko made things worse, by claiming that wasn't Jack _already_ mentally retarded for picking a fight with them?

I moved slowly so they had a _chance_ of fending me off. It didn't save her when I landed behind her and launched a roundhouse kick into her back with such force that her spine gave an audible snap. When she finally stopped rolling across the scorched grass, she wasn't moving.

So far as I know, she's still alive, but do I care...? Not really.

Static and Foley attempted to placate me so that I would not devastate the monks any further, but I simply sent Static home to Dakota. Foley was allowed to stay, but only because I did not want to deal with Stone's raging tantrum. It was Stone who took Foley away via the GTC Gloves so Foley would not have to witness what happened.

I systematically beat the Dragons into submission. Every last one of them will have a permanent, crippling injury that has changed them forever. In _addition_ to that, I took Omi with me. He is now mine and he will never go back to them.

When I left, Fung was sobbing face-down in the dirt – a broken old man.

I am writing all this now from an uncomfortable chair in Spicer's private room in the Queen Mary Hospital. I want dearly to take him home with me, but I do not have the means of caring for him. Besides that, the entire world would launch a manhunt to find him. As it is, they're all horrified and outraged that the most brilliant mind of their times – the one that gave them freedom from fossil fuels and promised space travel – is now teetering on the brink of destruction.

As for me... I wish only for Spicer to be mentally sound, first and foremost. The body can be taken care of, but if I've lost _him_....


	115. Monday, April 27, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: 52  
Monks: I hate them.  
Cupcakes Consumed: 0

  
Spicer's condition is unchanged. He is still critically injured. I have received the list of his injuries from Stone. Spicer is suffering from shock, bone fractures, dislocations, contusions, cuts and grazes that will leave scars, heart strain, and traumatic brain injury. The doctors will probably be drilling a hole into Spicer's skull soon to relieve intracranial pressure.

Actually, there's more to the procedure, but I do not wish to think about it. It's disgusting.

Static has returned from Dakota. Stone let me know that the young man is displeased with the level of hatred and violence I unleashed against the monks. I don't care. This is not his territory and not his fight. The Dragons now know that I have been holding back when dealing with them all this time. They also know what to expect should they choose to continue this fight between us.

Let's see... what all have I done to those damnable thugs masquerading as monks?

Pedrosa: Missing his left eye. Will most likely wear an eyepatch and consider himself dashing.

Tohomiko: Spine broken. Most likely paralyzed from the waist down for the rest of her life. We'll see.

Bailey: Leg broken quite badly. Will most likely walk with a pronounced limp for the rest of his life.

Omi: Face and body badly scarred; enough that it shows through the fur of his cat form.

I've no doubt all four of them will somehow force a positive view of all of this. No doubt, also, that Omi's friends will attempt to rescue him again as they did once before. I will not have it. Omi is _mine_ as the spoils of battle. There will be no Showdown. Omi will remain with me. Like as not, he will learn true honor and nobility in my keeping than as a monk.

Guan came to see me today. He made it clear he was not interested in a physical battle, but he _did_ lecture me about how bloody mean and vicious I was to all of them yesterday. I found myself boggling at the somber and stern lecture he delivered. Was that _really_ supposed to make me start sobbing and proclaim how awful I am and oh-boo-hoo how can I ever make up for it?

I. Am. **_EVIL_**. What is _so difficult_ to comprehend about that?

I provided Guan with a visual aid of the thuggish and wicked activities those precious widdle monks of his have been engaging in, up to and including Spicer's recent life-threatening injuries.

I thought Guan was going to vomit. He certainly turned a greenish hue.

I sent him on his way and then had to deal with Katnappé. Like the rest of the world, she is aware of Spicer's current state of non-responsiveness. She asked me for the science experiment they'd been working on, claiming that since he won't be working on it, she might as well finish it.

I murdered her freakish mutated kittens and left them in a bloody pile at her feet.

Once again, I am sitting in an uncomfortable chair in Spicer's room. It is late evening, dark and quiet, in his private room. However, it is interesting to note that paparazzi have tried breaking in several times to get pictures. They were not expecting me, that is for certain.

Their bodies are now fodder for sharks in the middle of an ocean somewhere.

Also, Spicer seems to have acquired groupies and stalkers. The police and security staff of the hospital are making it a point to keep the wacko loonies from getting in and molesting Spicer's unconscious body. So far, several "fiancées" have popped up, weeping and wailing and oh-why-won't-anyone-let-them-in-to-be-by-their-beloved's-side?

I overheard Jack's parents discussing these so-called fiancées and, although they're aware of their son's homosexuality, they want to be part of a dynasty. So, they're looking over the lot of these gold-digging floozies and will choose their son's bride for him.

I believe I'm going to be very busy for the next few days.


	116. Tuesday, April 28, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (I’ve decided to shorten the tallies)  
Monks: Cretins  
Cupcakes: 0 (still cannot face them)

The doctors had to perform the decompressive craniectomy on Spicer. His brain was swelling far too much for safety and since he was not getting any worse (besides the brain swelling), they removed bone flap of the skull. It is currently being stored somewhere _in_ his body (YUCK) and his brain is being allowed to expand without complications.

I arrived for a visit in time to see Stone puking out of the window while Foley rubbed his back, grimacing. I'm sure the crowd of groupies below did not appreciate the gift from Francis.

This visit, I brought Omi with me. The cantankerous brat has been pouting and whining incessantly, no matter _what_ punishments I give him. He was whining petulantly even as we materialized in Spicer's room.

Omi shut up in mid-whine as he was deposited at the foot of Spicer's bed. His fur started to stand up in a ridge along his spine, his tail began fuzzing out, and he started shaking as he stared at the wrecked pile of meat that Spicer had been reduced to.

Keeping my voice dispassionate, I told him that Jack's head is now bald and because part of his skull had to be removed to keep the brain from crushing itself against the bone. The head strike that Omi delivered had done such damage that Jack's brain was trying to explode from the injury.

Omi screamed and flung himself from the bed. He raced around the room, crying, and when he realized he could not get out, he curled up in a shuddering, shaking ball and cried.

Foley and Stone were able to quickly accept the idea of a talking cat due to their interaction with oddities in Dakota. Foley gave me a dirty look for traumatizing the young-monk-turned-feline, but quickly had to focus his attention on Stone, who had conjured flame and was trying to fry Omi.

It wasn't until the machines monitoring Spicer showed an elevated heart rate and other signs of distress that I made Stone be silent.

"You are disturbing your brother's peace and quiet," I said simply. "If you disturb him any further, I will disturb _you_."

Stone growled about wanting the little furbag dead, but I will not allow it.

"Omi is being punished," I told Stone. "He will learn nothing if he is killed now."

Stone: "I don't _want_ him to learn anything! I want him to _HURT!_ "

Me: "He will not _learn_ true suffering if it is cut _short_."

 _That_ got his attention, and so he ceased his attempts to murder Omi, which also resulted in Spicer unconsciously relaxing.

I kept myself and Omi there in Spicer's room for a few hours. Stone could only stand to be in the hospital for 45 minutes and then he needed to leave. He muttered something about "Virgil's gonna eat the damned fuckin' place out" and took off with Foley. Apparently, Static had been left behind at the Spicer mansion.

I never made mention of the tears staining Stone's face, but I'm not surprised. He has come to care for the little brother he never knew he had. I know that Spicer actually likes Francis, which is surprising. Jack doesn't like many people. In fact, so far as I know, I'm the only one he's ever actually liked.

I made Omi remain on Jack's bed and look at him. I listed, in great detail, every injury Jack currently had and why his likelihood of surviving was greatly reduced, never mind emerging without brain damage. Omi was reduced to a shivering, whining, sobbing wreck.

Eventually, we left, and now we are back in the palace. I have not heard from the monks, but it is only a matter of time. For now, as I have nothing else to do, I shall return to my research project.

Just in case.


	117. Wednesday, April 29, 4707

  
Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52  
Monks: Assholes  
Cupcakes: 2 (bittersweet)

  
There is very little change in Spicer's condition. The swelling of his brain has gone down somewhat, yet the doctors fear that pneumonia could set in. If that happens, Spicer is pretty much done for.

I have been researching Immortality. There are two ways I've discovered thus far: Either I make a bargain with a god or demon and offer up something of mine for Spicer's Immortality or I bond Jack's life-force to mine. Neither of these appeal to me currently. I gave up my _soul_ to acquire my own Immortality. I'm afraid of what else I would have to give to get Spicer's. As to the other...

That is a choice best left to lovers. Spicer is not my lover; he is my consort. He is in love with me, but I do not love him. I am unhappy that my consort might be ripped away from me without my consent. Spicer is my _possession_ and I do not relinquish my toys lightly.

Another of my possessions is in a deep state of depression. Omi has listlessly obeyed my commands without argue. When he is not doing whatever I have told him to do, he simply flops over and lies where he falls, staring at nothing in particular.

Omi is a Buddhist follower. His karma is not what he thought it was; that has been made apparent to him. He professed himself to be a pious and virtuous person, but the quality of his intentions were nothing but greed, anger and hatred. Those qualities have manifested in his outward actions and have laid the truth of his fundamental self bare for all to see. His unwholesome actions have resulted in supreme unhappiness, for himself, for Spicer, and for the people that have an interest in Spicer's well-being.

Truly, Omi is not _alone_ in his actions, but his actions were the ones that resulted in the worst of Spicer's injuries. He met Jack's wickedness with even _worse_ wickedness, and now Omi's belief in his innate goodness has been shattered.

My little cub is likely to suffer quite a bit as he adjusts to the reality of being a violent, greedy thug instead of the pious monk he believed himself to be.

Gods help me when he becomes aware of sex and the having of it. Nothing is going to be safe from his hormones.

Speaking of sex, I am feeling the lack of it. There is no one right now that I wish to have it with except Spicer and he is unavailable. Of course, I have indulged in self-pleasure, but it isn't the same as sliding into a hot, tight, perfect sheath.

Hmph. There is more research to be done. I suppose I should get to it.


	118. Thursday, April 30, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52  
Monks: ARROGANT assholes  
Cupcakes: 0

Finally had a visit from those twits that call themselves monks. Actually, it was only Bailey and Pedrosa. Tohomiko was not up to being out of bed just yet, what with a _broken spine_ and all.

The two young men demanded the return of Omi.

I said no.

They challenged me to a Showdown for him.

I said no.

That flummoxed them. For some insane reason I cannot fathom, they actually expected me to agree to it. It didn't work for me _last_ time; why would I allow something that is not in my favor _again?_

Bailey then asked Pedrosa what were they going to do now and Pedrosa replied they would just have to take Omi by force.

Immediately, my warriors ringed all three of us and growled death threats. Bailey and Pedrosa both looked a little nervous. I offered that if they really wanted to be left paraplegic quadruple amputees, I would be more than happy to oblige them. They looked _a lot_ more nervous after that, but Pedrosa stubbornly demanded Omi's return, anyway.

Me: Really? The same little monk who has been whining and pestering and pouting because _you_ were made Shoku leader and _he_ wasn't? You want that back?

Pedrosa: ....

Bailey: It ain't right, holdin' the little guy against his will!

Me: It wasn't right that you murdered Spicer and took away my favorite sex-toy, but that didn't stop you... _monk_.

That shocked them. They looked like the end of the world had come.

"HE'S DEAD?!"

GAH. Two young male voices in full bellow... much with the ow-making in my ears!

Me: As good as. I received a report only a few hours ago. All signs of brain function have ceased. He is little more than a vegetable hooked up to machines that force his lungs to fill with air and his heart to continue beating – and you so-called _monks_ did that to him.

Pedrosa very nearly got himself killed right there because he snarled back that Jack _deserved_ it, but Omi interrupted.

Omi: No.

Pedrosa: —ugly, pale-assed slut with his fucking bombs and robots—

Omi: No.

Pedrosa: —had no right blowing up our Temple and bruising the Elders, I mean, C'MON, they're ELDERS—

Omi: NO.

Pedrosa: —should just DIE, that'd do the world a huge favor—

OMI: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Bailey & Pedrosa: O.O

I stood back with my arms crossed and listened as Omi let rip on his former fellow monks. He decried their actions ("their" meaning all four of them) as foul and evil things; that they had all strayed from the path of true goodness.

Of course, those two brainless mules would not accept that. They accused me of brain-washing Omi.

Omi: You didn't see him.

Bailey: Now, pardner—

Omi: You. Didn't. SEE. Him.

Pedrosa: Who'd want to see that ug—

Omi: YOU DIDN'T SEE HIM!!!!!!!!!!

Bailey & Pedrosa: O.O

Omi: You did not _see_ him, my friends. Jack... Chase took me to see him; to see what I – and you – had done to him. He is... he looks... *begins crying*

Still, they would not accept that perhaps they'd gone too far, so I had my warriors throw them out. There was a fairly decent battle, despite Bailey's broken leg and Pedrosa missing an eye, but they were still defeated and I was left to deal with cat snot as Omi sobbed and huddled against my leg. For some silly reason, I think he was expecting me to pick him up and cuddle him.

As _if_.

And that has been my day. I could be doing more research. I could go visit Spicer's mindless body.

Instead, I am _tired_ in a way I haven't been in a very long time.

I believe I shall stay home and get some sleep.


	119. Friday, May 1, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52  
Monks: Broken. >=3  
Cupcakes: 0

So. Guan found out that Omi repents what he did to Jack. My little cub acknowledges that he did something evil and someone else is hurt badly because of it. _Unlike_ me, he's _sorry_ for it. That is why Guan took those two retards masquerading as monks to visit Jack.

Had I known about it at the time, I would have prevented it from happening. As it is, I only found out because of Foley. A few days back – I forgot to mention this – I instructed a Jackbot (I've been given control over them in Jack's absence) to build a communicator set so Stone can keep in contact with me and vice versa.

Today, I got a frantic little high-pitched message from Foley (who sounds as if he is still waiting for his balls to drop) saying that the monks had landed and then a yowl of "FRANCIS DON'T THE OXYGEN TANK!" and that was that.

I teleported over to Jack's hospital room and found only Guan (holding Tohomiko cradled carefully in his arms), Bailey, and Pedrosa there and the door to the room just falling shut. Apparently, Foley had somehow muscled his lover out of the room before Stone could blow the place up.

I took in the sight of the four monks. Guan looked stoic, but I know my old _friend_ very well. He wanted to burst into tears like a little boy. Tohomiko simply stared at Spicer in mute horror. I'm sure she could talk; she simply had nothing to say, _for once_. Bailey was puking into a convenient bedpan and Pedrosa was also staring at Jack in numb horror – completely oblivious to the trickle of urine beginning to saturate his trousers.

I couldn't resist.

"Not so deserving of it _now_ , is he?" I taunted them cruelly, and they all winced (except for Guan). "Now that you've seen your handiwork, even _you_ can concede he did not _deserve_ this."

"But, he... _pipe-bomb_..." Pedrosa whispered hoarsely, the scent of hot pee rising up from his clothing.

"No," Bailey whimpered, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. "Nobody got hurt like this. Just a couple o' bruises, is all. We didn't... _he_ didn't... oh, _God!_ "

I sneered at him with a show of fangs. "Your god will not be merciful, Bailey – and neither will I. You _took him from me_."

That startled them all so badly and, in Pedrosa's _one remaining green eye_ , I could see sick jealousy. I am, in turns, smug and appalled.

The door opened again; Stone and Foley stepped inside.

Stone: *glaring acid hatred at them* That's _right_ , muthafuckers! You don't beat up a man's boyfriend without gettin' the Smackdown Fu laid on ya!

Me: Spicer is _not_ my boyfriend.

Stone: o.0

So, I explained that Spicer and I have a mutually beneficial arrangement. He learns how to refine himself as a master of evil under my tutelage and we get to use each other for sex.

Bailey: But the boy _loves_ ya! We've all known it from th' start!

Me: Your point being...?

Foley: Damn, that's cold. *blink* Wait! If you don't care about Jack, then why—?

Me: I never said I don't care about him. I simply said that I am not in love with him. Now, consider _that_ , children. I do not love Spicer - and yet, I nearly destroyed you all anyway simply for the inconvenience you have caused me by turning him into a mindless vegetable. Imagine how much worse it could have been if I _had_ been in love with him.

Every last one of them went almost as pale as Spicer as their brains provided them with various mental images.

Not long after, Guan took the now very subdued Dragons home. I requested privacy (actually, I politely ordered privacy) with Jack. Stone and Foley acquiesced, of course, and left the room.

Stone: *as he's leaving* Finnian wants to see Jack, but I don't know what that'd do to him to find the hair and all gone.

As if I care.

I stood by Jack's bedside, looking down at him for some time. I wanted so much to demand he wake up and declare himself ready to serve my needs.

Instead, I came home.

Gods above and gods below... what do I do now?


	120. Saturday, May 2, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52  
Monks: Not sorry enough  
Cupcakes: 3

Nothing much going on. I received a letter from Guan, telling me that the young Dragons are in a state of depression and remorse for what they've done to Jack. I could care less, quite frankly.

Jack is still in his vegetative coma; no change.

I'm bored, so I have been researching immortality some more.

I've even used the internet as a resource. There is such nonsense out there in the world as to boggle my mind.

Hmmm. I'm bored. I don't know what to do.


	121. Sunday, May 3, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Mantis Flip Coin sort of on loan to Katnappé)  
Monks: Bah.  
Cupcakes: 4

Gods, what a day.

I wasn't actually counting on anything frustrating (beyond Spicer being rendered inert), so I was blindsided by a rather frantic call from Stone.

Me: They're WHAT?

Stone: Tryin' to cut off his _balls_ , dude! They figure he don't need 'em no more, but future generations of Little Jacks might be genius enough t' keep 'em rollin' in the greenbacks, an'—

Me: Shut UP. I'll be there in a moment.

And I was.

Martin Spicer turned a sickly gray-green color and pulled his wife closer to his side when I arrived, though whether it was to protect her (doubtful) or to protect himself (most likely), I don't know. Either way, all conversation stopped when I simply appeared in the room. The doctor who had been standing beside the Spicers stared at me with equal parts fear and equal parts avarice.

I do not believe it was sexual in nature, but a medical man's incessant need to know how the human body does things. I believe he wanted to study me in a lab somewhere, which shall not ever be allowed to happen. I will reduce the world to a burned cinder before I allow myself to be so grotesquely violated.

Stone and Foley looked intensely relieved to see me, at any rate.

Stone: Chase, man, thank _God_. You gotta _stop_ 'em!

I looked at the Spicer parents. They were glaring at all of us and I could see the stubborn set in Sylvia Spicer's jaw – so very much like her son's. I asked for an explanation. Stone and the Spicers began speaking at once, but I raised my hand warningly and they all shut up. I then pointed to Foley, who gulped, shoved his glasses up on his nose, and proceeded to fill me in.

It seems that Martin and Sylvia have been picking over the crop of women declaring themselves as Jack's fiancée – all 273 of them, with more still in other countries around the world. Side point of interest: There's a Reality TV show being rushed into production now to gather all of the "fiancées" together to have them compete against each other. Whoever wins will be _the_ fiancée. Martin and Sylvia have narrowed their choice of woman to produce the next Spicer heir down to five women, so they'll help those ladies eliminate the rest of the competition until only those five remain. _After_ that, the women will have to duke it out on their own. The reason for all of this is that Jack has been declared brain dead. It is unlikely he shall ever wake up, but if he does, he'll be severely mentally retarded. In short, his genius will be gone.

I very nearly tore the place apart at that news, but I held myself together.

Interestingly, none of the competition nonsense was public knowledge. Foley had done some electronic digging into computerized communiqués between the Spicers and a TV producer, as well as separate "Oh, you're our favorite; of course we'll help you!" e-mails to the five chosen women. Martin and Sylvia were appalled at Foley's actions, which is absurd and disgusting in light of their own.

Then, there's the fact that Jack has not given his consent to any of this. I brought that up and the doctor stepped in; said that for the greater good of humanity (oh, but my flesh crawled) sometimes little things like consent had to be ignored. I countered that I _know_ Spicer does not want children, and again, it was insinuated that Jack's wants were not even being considered. The doctor then said that the Spicer parents had okayed it, but I countered with Jack being eighteen, and therefore, an adult in his own right and his parents had no legal document in their possession saying they were allowed to mess with his DNA. That's when Foley spoke up _again_. Apparently, the Spicers are in contact with a lawyer who specializes in Last Will and Testaments. They're trying to have a legal Will drawn up that makes them the beneficiaries and gives them Power of Attorneys in case anything happens to Jack, which I know for a fact is not true.

Martin and Sylvia threatened to have Foley arrested for computer hacking, but Stone countered with going to the authorities with all the information he has on the Spicers' shady dealings.

A free-for-all of shouting and accusation then commenced, but I ignored it as I walked over to look down at Spicer. If he had known what was being done to him, he would have been heartbroken and horrified.

Foley stood opposite me across Spicer's bed. He caught my attention and then said quietly, "If you have written proof _anywhere_ of Jack not wanting kids, get it to me and Frankie. We'll pick the mother of all civil liberties fights."

I started to ask why, what good would it do? However, a thought occurred to me. Spicer and Katnappé had been planning on creating some kind of DNA boost from their studies of the Mantis Flip Coin. I vaguely remembered Spicer blathering on about how it could potentially cure "cripples and retards," as he put it.

Spicer was, in essence, a cripple and a retard.

The only problem was that the project has not been completed.

I disappeared instantly and returned to the palace. I used the Thing-Finder to not only locate Spicer's diary, but any entry in which he states he does not want children. I found it on March 27th of this very year, in fact. He wrote:

"First of all, Megan’s a little bitch who thinks she’s better than everyone else, and if I go having improved in the way I have, I may just end up stabbing her with something sharp, pointy, and painful, if just to get across the point that she’s not God incarnate. In fact, I think that little bitch is the whole reason I hate kids; _hate_ ‘em. I never want to have children in my life. _Ever._

It shouldn’t be much of a problem because I’m gay and refuse to have sex with a woman in the first place, but I mean…if my parents ever pull some dumbass shit about trying to get me to artificially inseminate someone (which I’ve no doubt they will since they’re greedy like that and don’t care about my own wants/needs; never have), I’m not gonna do it or even remotely _consider_ it. No way, not happening, _don’t_ want my DNA running amok anywhere but in my own body under _any_ circumstances."

That states, fairly clearly, that no matter _what_ happens to him, Jack does not want his DNA used in any way he does not approve of.

I used one of Jack's highlighters to mark the entry, took the diary to Foley, and told them to stall for as long as possible. Then, I went to Katnappé.

It took some doing, but she eventually agreed to finish the project so that Spicer can be fixed. The offer that won her over was the immediate removal of the shock-collar and my promise to attempt convincing Jack to never put it on her again. Also, she wanted sex, but I told her bluntly that if she tried to have sex with me now, I would rip her head off and shove it somewhere impolite.

I also warned her that if she tampered with the project in such a way that delayed harm was brought against Spicer, there would be nowhere on the planet or in the universe or anywhere in between she would be able to hide, and there would be nothing she could do to save herself from horrendous and barbaric torture.

She seemed shaken by that, but we agreed to the deal, and she is now currently working in the lab in my palace.

As for me, I hate to admit it, but she is tempting me sexually. I haven't had sex with another person since Spicer was injured on the 25th. I know how hot, wet, and slutty Katnappé can be.

Still, I now have hope that Spicer can be restored to me. If she succeeds and, more importantly, does not sabotage Spicer's recuperation, I might consent to fucking her again – so long as she gets it through her fur-brain that she _must_ have my permission before any sexing occurs.

For now, on the news, reports are coming in about the fight for Jack's civil liberties. Therefore, for now, Spicer is safe.

I'm hungry. I believe I'll go have some cupcakes.


	122. Monday, May 4, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Mantis Flip Coin is sort of on loan to Katnappé)  
Monks: Piss me off.  
Cupcakes: 7 (I seem to have regained my appetite for them with the possibility of Spicer’s recovery looming on the horizon)

  
In all the commotion, I had forgotten about 'Granny' Phyllis Spicer.

Jack's grandmother managed to get a message to me, asking me to come to her and fill her in personally. I arrived and found the old woman already into the liquor. She fixed me with a hard look and set a glass down on the table, filled it with whiskey, and said, "Tell me everything. That shitface of a son of mine hasn't called or e-mailed with any information, and the other boy, he does not know I exist, apparently."

I sat at the table, took up the whiskey glass, and said, "It's bad."

I told Phyllis everything; every last scrap of information I had. There was no prevarication. One does not prevaricate with a concerned matriarch when a beloved member of her clan is in danger. Despite their work for the forces of evil, Phyllis and Jack Spicer love one another dearly.

Unless I wanted to know the unholy terror of a pissed off grandmother hounding me for the rest of my days (and she'd do it after death, too), then I had best give her what I had.

By the time I was done, Phyllis's face was somber; still and cold as stone despite the tears filling the crags and cracks of her wrinkled cheeks.

She then asked if I would take her to see him. I did not want to, but she assured me that whatever emotions she needed to vent would not be given to me to deal with. Given that, I had no choice but to take her to the hospital.

Grandmothers are _scary_. I don't care what anyone says about it; I will not thwart Granny Spicer if I can avoid it.

When we arrived, she let out an audible gasp and a moan of pain at the sight of Jack lying in his bed, but quickly muffled it. Martin Spicer (attempting unsuccessfully to reason with his still functioning son) turned and came to her.

"Mother, what are you doing here? There's no nee-OWWWWWW!!!!"

Phyllis Spicer let her son know precisely what she thought of that.

With her cane.

Several times.

Grandmothers. Are. SCARY.

I went over to stand by Jack's bedside, looking down at him and simply touching my fingers to his hand. I walked past Stone, who was gaping with his mouth and eyes wide open as a little old woman beat the crap out of his father. Foley was half-wincing, half-smirking as Phyllis told her son in no uncertain terms what an asshole he was for not calling, writing, or even coming to tell her in person what had happened to her favorite grandson. Once that was done with, she turned her attention to the _other_ grandson.

"Hello, boy," she told him. "I'm your father's mother, Phyllis Spicer.  'Granny' is Jack's name for me and only he is allowed to use it. If I decide you suit the family well enough, we can discuss a nickname for me from you later."

"I got a nickname for ya right _now_ , you old bi—!” Stone began to yowl, only to cut off with a yelp when Foley punched his arm. I kept my gaze on Spicer, but I found the corners of my mouth twitching. Say what you will, but the Spicer family are an amusing and interesting bunch.

Phyllis made a thoughtful sound and muttered, "Perhaps you'll fit in after all..." and then was interrupted by her son, whining petulantly. Their short conversation goes as follows:

"Mother! Damn it, you _have_ to stop caning people just because you feel like it!"

"Kiss my ass, Martin! You spineless pansy, you slut! When I want to hear words out of you, they will be apologies for keeping me in the dark, you diseased trollop – not useless orders that I have not enough respect for you to obey!"

There came the sound of an infuriated growl from Martin. Smirking, I bent and whispered into Jack's ear: "Spicer, your Granny has arrived to visit you. You are missing a terrific show of her ripping your father a new one."

I pulled back but, as always, there was no change; no response.

So much for that crap about coma patients being able to hear and understand the people speaking to them.

Or perhaps that applies only to people not quite so badly injured as Spicer.

Martin stomped out of the room. Foley, Stone and I followed soon after, giving Phyllis time alone with her beloved grandson.

"Fill me in," I ordered, and Foley proceeded to do so while Stone jittered nervously as we walked down the hallway.

There are civil rights activists up in arms all over the planet, it seems. Teams of lawyers are arguing for and against the unwitting donation of Jack's sperm. Lawmakers are having all they can do to field public opinion, lawsuits and threats of lawsuits (both for and against), while deliberating amongst themselves if Spicer's genius should be passed on or not.

"From the way this is going," Foley told me, "it could take _months_ before a decision is reached. It isn't just China that has a stake in Jack's brains – it's the whole world."

In other news, Sylvia Spicer and her lawyer have been arrested for trying to create a false Will. _Somehow_ the information got leaked. The only reason Martin is not sitting in jail alongside them is that Sylvia is relying on him to handle things on the outside, and so hasn't thrown him to the wolves.

Yet.

Speaking of Martin, as we walked around a corner, we all heard a feminine sigh coming from behind a curtain in a small privacy room set aside for family members. In a fit of irritation, Stone burned the curtain away and there was Martin Spicer with an attractive young nurse. His pants were open, his hand was in her panties, and he was sucking on one bared breast.

Foley turned bright red and hurried past. The nurse also was embarrassed and hurriedly pulled his hand away from her and tried to close her clothing.

“Hard at work making another bastard already, Pops?” Stone sneered in passable Chinese to make sure the nurse heard him, and I wanted to laugh. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask: Am I the only one or do you have more scattered around the world? Seeing as you can’t _not_ fuck women wherever you go, and all.”

The grin on his face as we heard a sharp slap of skin-against-skin, and Martin's aggrieved cry, was a thing of evil beauty.

Still, the sight of sex trying to take place only emphasized how _empty_ my bed is lately. I hope, for my sake, that Katnappé discovers the "cure" soon.

I miss seeing ruby eyes, dark with lust, looking up (or down) at me in supreme pleasure.

Stone, Foley and I stayed away for fifteen minutes. When we returned to Jack's room, Martin was nowhere in sight and Phyllis said she was ready to go. I took her home and the two of us proceeded to get stone-blind drunk.

I managed to make it home and checked in on Katnappé who asked me if I was in the mood to fuck. I was, but I still didn't want to do it with her, so I lied and went off to take care of myself.

Now, it is currently almost midnight. I am wide awake and twitchy with the need to do _something_... but what?


	123. Tuesday, May 5, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Mantis Flip Coin is sort of on loan to Katnappé)  
Monks: Annoy the hell out of me  
Cupcakes: 5

Nothing much was accomplished today.

I did some more work on the Immortality research. I found one I think I like. It would require Spicer repeating a yearly spell. He would have to have an Immortal _something_ as the intrinsic part of the spell component, but I'm certain that if _anyone_ can make a Philosopher's Stone, it's him – provided Katnappé succeeds with her experiments.

In other news: I attempted to change my exercise routine slightly. I foolishly attempted to _swim_ as part of my morning workout.

The memory of being in the pool with Spicer was too much. I didn't swim; I merely used the pool water to jerk off in.

*sigh*

I want him back.


	124. Wednesday, May 6, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Mantis Flip Coin is sort of on loan to Katnappé)  
Monks: I want to kill them slowly, over a period of 6 to 9 months  
Cupcakes: 13 (urgh)

Things are ever-so-slightly looking up.

Katnappé has declared that she is close to a break-through on what she calls the "Magical Heal Me Juice."

The interesting part is what happened when I again warned her to not tamper with it.

She grimaced, gave a delicate little shudder, and said that the world was stupid enough already. If she did anything that cost us Jack's idiotic genius, then we were all up a certain smelly creek and no amount of paddles in the world would save us.

I sneeringly told her that she was somewhat on the right track of buttering me up enough to consider having sex with her again. She sneered right back at me, the cheeky little freak.

"You're hot, Lizard-breath, and I like what you can do with your dick, but it isn't the only one in the world. No... I just wouldn't feel right doing anything to Jack. He's already been through _enough_ shit and, like I said, the world's stupid enough as it is. I'll wait until he's back on his feet and what passes for sane and sound with him. _Then_ I'll make him beg to be my personal bitch just to get even for all the crap he's put me through."

So, the good news is: Jack is dubiously closer to receiving the thing that will make him all better.

The bad news is: Katnappé, the fickle feline bitch, is the one making and delivering it.

Damn it all, anyway.


	125. Wednesday, May 7, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52  
Monks: Cannon fodder if they dare cross me right now.  
Cupcakes: 0 (too nerved up)

  
It is... done.

At around 10 o'clock this morning, one of my warriors came to fetch me; sent by Katnappé. When I arrived, she said that it was done. She'd already run it once through Spicer's "What If" probability machine and received favorable results. She fine-tuned it and now, she wanted to run it again.

I watched intently and she ran the results _five times_ through the "What If" machine. Each time, it gave the probability of – at the very least – 98 percent restoration.

Katnappé said that this was only the base formula. To help any individual, it had to be tailored to their specific DNA via a nanobot process designed by Spicer; before he became unable to work on their project. She asked for a strand of hair from his hairbrush or comb. I gave her several.

Within the hour, a syringe loaded with the specially-formulated-for-Spicer "juice" was ready to go.

I took Katnappé to Jack's hospital room. I was unprepared for the sharp gasp she gave and the way she cringed back against me.

"You didn't... I didn't know he was _this_ bad!" she said softly, her tail thrashing. She looked at me, her eyes full of horror. "The _monks_ did this?"

"They will not do it _again_ ," I assured her. "Now, will this 'juice' of yours work on him or not?"

"Yes," she said, though her expression looked doubtful. "It'll work. It'll just take longer than I thought."

"How long?"

"What are the extent of his injuries?"

I described them for her and with every word, her face became more pale and horrified.

"He's essentially dead," she spat. "You're asking for a _dead man_ to be revived."

I gave her a heated glare. "Yes, I am. _How. Long?_ "

"A month, tops," she growled. "If we're lucky... less than that. It'll definitely be a couple of weeks, though."

"Fine. Get to it."

I watched closely as she injected Spicer through an already placed tube. The serum – a delicate champagne color, which surprised me – flowed slowly into him, but into him it went.

Katnappé and I came back to the palace after that. There is nothing to do now but wait.


	126. Friday, May 8, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52  
Monks: =P  
Cupcakes: 0 (too antsy)

I have not been back to the hospital since yesterday.

I do not want to know if I have sanctioned the complete termination of my favorite whore. Although true death is better than keeping the body alive for no reason, I do not like making mistakes. Being clumsy or careless irritates me – hence why I used to despise Jack so thoroughly.

I asked Katnappé once today when we would know if it worked, and she snapped back, "When signs of life start reappearing. I _told_ you: He's essentially dead. It's going to take _time_ , so shut up, sit back, and wait."

Cheeky little brat.

Grah. I think I'll go... pummel something.


	127. Saturday, May 9, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52  
Monks: Hope they catch mange.  
Cupcakes: 0

  
I just received a communiqué from Stone.

There are signs of brain activity coming from Jack. The signs are barely there, but it's more than there had been. Jack had been technically dead.

His mind is reviving. That little bit gives me hope that he will come back more and more.

Just for that, I feel like smoking a cigar. >=]


	128. Sunday, May 10, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52  
Monks: Suck.  
Cupcakes: 1

Nothing much to add except that reports are that Spicer continues to improve. The doctors have noticed his increased brain activity and are declaring him to be a miracle.

I laughed for ten minutes on that one.

I have instructed my minions to clean Jack's room. I have also instructed Jack's minions (the robots) to go out looking for Cadbury Eggs. I know the holiday has passed, but Jack likes them and I want him to have a special treat for getting over being dead. Failing that, the robots should find peanut butter cups.

Enough for two. >.>


	129. Monday, May 11, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52  
Monks: Don’t know why they call themselves that; they don’t behave like monks.  
Cupcakes: 2

  
Jack held my hand today.

I went to visit him to see the improvement for myself. His left hand is one of the few places on his body that _isn't_ broken to pieces. I touched my fingers to his hand, trying to sense his presence.

I sensed it alright! He grabbed my hand and held on tight. The heart rate and brain activity monitors showed an increase in energy as well.

He knew I was there. He wasn't _aware_ enough to understand it all, but Jack knew I was there and eagerly welcomed my presence.

I'm so revoltingly happy about it, I very nearly danced a jig several times today.

I'm beginning to wonder which one of us is mentally retarded.


	130. Tuesday, May 12, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52  
Monks: *snort*  
Cupcakes: 0

I am back to being unhappy.

Despite holding my hand yesterday, there have been no new improvements in Spicer's condition. I tried to bawl Katnappé out about it, and she effectively told me to shut the hell up.

She pointed out that because the damage was so severe, that he had pretty much _died_ , that even though he'll heal completely physically, he might not ever wake up due to mental complications.

I asked what sort of complications and she said anything from the destruction of brain cells that couldn't be replaced to Jack simply hiding within his own psyche rather than face waking up in a world that the monks inhabit.

If that pansy Spicer thinks I'm going to allow him to hide in his own head, he has another think coming. I will use the Mind Reader Conch to reach in there and _KICK_ him out of his own brain.

GRAH.


	131. Something May whatevr godsdamn i'm DRUNK

FUCK

iS Spicer NEVER gonna wake up?

Went o see Granny Phil and talked about Jack.

Pretty pretty pretty jack with that soft white skin and that tight TIGHT hot ass that just feels so fucking PERFECT to be inside of, the way it squeezes and clings around a hard cock mmmmmm want it NOW.

What was I saying?

O right.

Talked to Granny Phil about Jack. She's a dirty per... fuck cannot remeber how to spell that word. FREAK. She is a dirty FREAK.

Wanted to know all about our sexing.

Me and Jack.

Freak.

Anyway!

Talked to her about how NOT FUCKING FAIR its not that my pretty favorite whore might not wake up.

Shit.

Want him back.

Want Jack and his perfect tight ass back. Want inside it. Want perfect sex. Gimme!

Fuck i’m drunk.


	132. Thursday, May 14, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52  
Monks: Good for NOTHING.  
Cupcakes: 0 (in state of shock)

It was worth waking up with a pounding head and a sour taste in my mouth this morning.

I woke up to find _Spicer in my bed_.

\O/

Pardon the juvenile silliness, but it would seem he woke up in the middle of the night at the hospital. Terrified, he instinctively came here to the palace... to me.

He instinctively came to me to protect him.

Jack _heels_.

Good _PUPPY!_ >=]

He keeps slipping in and out of naps, so information has been spotty at best. It seems he came home, but curled up in his solitary bedroom alone for a bit before gathering his courage to join me in bed. I hadn't noticed because I was stone-blind drunk and passed out from it.

For now, I am keeping an eye on Jack as he naps the hours away, making sure he has plenty of water to drink every time he wakes up.

He's home. Jack is _home!_


	133. Friday, May 15, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52  
Monks: Can kiss my scaly backside.  
Cupcakes: 12 (an even dozen!)

Today was a day of playing Catch Up.

I told Spicer about what happened to him. Since the DNA used was taken from _before_ the attack, when he got "reset" by the Heal-Me Juice, Jack didn't remember. So, I had to tell him what had happened.

Not only that, I _showed_ him.

It distressed him to the point he puked.

I told/showed him of his time spent in the hospital; of how he had technically died as all brain activity had ceased. I told him that I'd brought in Katnappé to find the cure and fix him. I also explained that until the Heal-Me Juice had finished doing its job, he would he resting – a _lot_.

I don't care if he naps most of the weekend; it means Jack will get better.

And the sooner Jack gets better, the sooner I can finally have _sex_ again!

I don't _care_ that he looks like a concentration camp victim! I just want him.


	134. Saturday, May 16, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52  
Monks: Who cares?  
Cupcakes: 17 ( =D )

Today was an interesting day in that I finally had some form of sexual contact with Spicer.

Also, I grew his hair out for him.

At some point, Jack woke up long enough to desire and attempt a shower. I was in the process of checking up on him when I caught sight of him in the bathroom. Keeping out of his sight, I watched him examine himself in the mirror with the most _disgusted_ expression on his face.

When he came out of the shower, I was already in bed, waiting for him.

I had no further intentions than to cuddle him as if there were nothing wrong; as if he didn't look precisely like what he was: A recovering broken body.

I bundled him into bed and held him close to me, asking if he was distressed over his physical appearance. Jack admitted that he was – that the sickly chalky color of his skin and the lack of hair bothered him the most. Kissing him, I assured him that I knew several handy spells. In fact, I used one of them to grow his hair out for him, long enough and thick enough to gather back in a ponytail if he so desired. Long hair looks ridiculously pretty on him.

He was so grateful that he kissed me and then gasped. With a shocked expression on his face, Jack exclaimed that it had been two weeks since he'd last had sex with me!

Believe me: _I KNOW_.

He offered to let me fuck him then and there, but I had to decline. He was so frail, I would have most likely hurt him badly if I'd done so.

Still, he convinced me fairly easily to let him take care of me _somehow_.

Everything went well during the blowjob, but when he was giving me a handjob, he... just _stopped_ ; slumped, and went lax against my leg. I shook him awake quickly and was relieved that he'd merely fallen asleep. He told me that if it happened again, just masturbate using his hand; he wouldn't mind.

It was creepy, all told.

Still, he got me off a second time and then went back to sleep. I snuggled him up against me and decided to watch some TV.

Sometime later, Jack woke up again and together we watched the news as several different reporters, in several different languages, gave round-the-clock coverage on "Where in the World is Jack Spicer?"

I told Spicer that he _had_ to put them at ease or we'd never have a moment's true peace. Fortunately, he agreed and said he would announce his return soon, and snuggled back to sleep against me.

That will have to do.

All I really care about is that my favorite consort is once again _mine_.


	135. Sunday, May 17, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52  
Monks: =P  
Cupcakes: 0 (ice cream today!)

  
Today was an interesting day.

When Spicer awoke this morning, he watched the news briefly. Humanity was _still_ losing its last cracked marble over his disappearance and so Jack decided to do something about it. We went to the Spicer mansion first (even without breakfast, and YES, I miss Spicer breakfasts) to check in with Stone.

Jack was incredibly surprised to find himself pounced on almost immediately by Stone, who grabbed him up in a tight hug and babbled apologies for letting Jack get hurt and how glad he was to see him and blah, blah, blah. Finnian did a spectacular leap and burrowed into Jack's hair like an oversized louse with whiskers. I couldn't tell who was doing the most of the excited chittering and squeaking: Finnian or Stone. Still, the sight of a whip-thin tail wriggling happily from the thick nest of Jack's violently red hair was amusing.

However, Stone was being a little _too_ rough with Jack. I took it upon myself to remind him to be careful, because if he did anything to break my favorite consort, I would break _him_. Since he's witnessed precisely what I'm capable of, Stone let go of Jack quickly.

We all ended up in the kitchen. Stone is a decent enough cook and he did up a huge mess of bacon, eggs, and toast while Jack told him about waking up in the hospital, freaking out, and running. Stone admitted that he completely understood and told us about his experience with a flu strain so strong it had him in a hospital for two years. It was, briefly, a strange one-up game of who had the worst hospital experience. I'm pretty sure Spicer won this round.

Spicer himself was seated on a cushioned stool, wearing some of my clothing. It was big on him; not _too_ big, as we're roughly the same height (though I suspect Jack will eventually be taller than me; "gargantuan freak" obviously runs in his family, just look at Stone!), but Jack has never been very muscular and his recent stint in the hospital wasted him just a little bit more.

Jack held Finnian against his chest and fed the rat some toast while the two brothers talked. Jack explained how and why he was well again; said he wanted his brother to hear it from him before he went out and told the world in a "Hey! Pipe down, shut up, and stop STALKING ME, GODDAMMIT!" press conference.

Stone indulged his inner touchy-feely and hugged Jack again, and then insisted on shaking _my_ hand for seeing to it that Jack got better. I let him know that I did it for _me_. I wanted my consort back!

Stone said he knew, but he didn't care because it meant Jack was back in action again.

Weirdo.

Jack is weird, too. I caught him looking at me with a little smile on his lips, as if he were amused/pleased with watching our interaction. Gods know what's going on in that recently-healed head of his.

Still, once we'd had breakfast, Jack plunked Finnian into Stone's hair and went to get cleaned up and dressed in his Armani suit. I contemplated making a rumpled mess of him, but only briefly. No matter how good he looks, I'm leery of setting back Spicer's recovery.

Shortly, an army of reporters was assembled on the front lawn of the Spicer estate and Jack was standing out on the grand entrance, giving a report of his current status. Stone and I were there; I lurked off to the side while Stone kept close to his brother. He hadn't bothered to put on all of his own suit. He'd gone with the trousers, shoes, and shirt. He left off the vest, tie, and jacket, with the sleeves rolled up and the collar undone. Apparently, he was trying to look as intimidating as possible while still showing that he had money to dress nicely.

I wanted to laugh, even though he made a pretty picture.

Still, I had a _very_ nice view from where I stood of Jack's backside tucked neatly into Armani. True, the suit jacket covered him, but it still looked good.

The press conference was entertaining in and of itself. It went something like this:

Jack: *ahem* I am fine now. I will be away from the public for a few days recuperating, but you can call off the fucking manhunt, now. That is all.

Reporters: Um, excuse us, Mr. Spicer, sir, but how did you heal so FAST? ...let alone, _at all_.

Jack: I was already working on a project for a serum to fix physical mistakes and inadequacies caused by poor genetics and diseases _before_ I got hurt. Kinda ironic that I was the first test subject, but hey! Look. It works! Yippee skip.

Reporters: *lose their collective mind*

Jack: Yeah, anyway. I'll be completely back to what passes for normal in a few days, so would you all _please_ shut the fuck up and stop freaking out? I can't even watch my favorite shows 'cause it's Spicerplex: All Spicer, All the Time on _every_ friggin' channel.

Reporters: Anybody else would _love_ the attention.

Jack: I'm _not_ everybody else. I'm a super-genius who’s going to fix everything the rest of you have screwed up. Back off.

Reporters: Whatever. How'd the serum get to you if you'd still been working on it when you got hurt?

Jack: Need to know information. You're not on the short list. You'll find out when everybody else does when I release it to the public.

Reporters: But people need it _now!_

Jack: You can be patient. _Think_ about the benefits it’ll have. All those disgusting little special needs cripples that drool and blink and go GUHHHHH all the time and are kept alive because _somehow_ people believe they _have_ a quality of life? Well, they can _have_ that quality, now. This will _fix_ their crippleness. REDUCED EXPENDITURES, people. All you’ve gotta do is _wait_ a couple of goddamn days until I’m recovered from my _brush with death and mental retardation_ and ready to prepare it for marketing.

Reporters: *whine like a bunch of babies*

Jack: Do you want the damn thing at all? ‘Cause I’m not above keeping it for my own private use and never releasing it.

Reporters: *quickly silence their cellphones, which all went off at once, no doubt from bosses/world leaders telling them to SHUT UP, DAMN IT, which they did anyway*

Jack: *incredibly smug* Thought so.

All in all, it was a successful press conference. Jack had me take him back to the palace (by cuddling up to me and murmuring about how much he wanted to be in his happy place, which is my territory). Stone was told to call Foley and set up a secretarial service of some kind with the Jackbots to field all the calls and e-mails that would be coming in, and then Jack and I were back home.

He settled in to watch some movies and ate an entire gallon of ice cream, the little glutton. Luckily for him, he has an accelerated metabolism. Like me, he can eat whatever he wants and not suffer for it.

At some point while we were curled up together and watching a film, I had my hand in Jack's hair and was tracing the brain surgery scar still in his scalp. He started muttering about how he hoped Fung had at least chewed the Dragons out for their shitty behavior and that's when I told Jack that I'd punished them myself.

I then went into great detail about the combined actions of myself and Stone, and how we laid waste to the Temple and the monks. I explained about their injuries and, oh by the way, don't be surprised if he saw a scarred up little cub wandering around, because Omi is now mine.

He was pleased with the fuss made over him. He turned to me with a smirk and said:

Jack: O Lord of Chaos and Sexy Evil, I believe you have outdone yourself. I must really be a spectacular fuck to warrant such a sound thrashing.

Me: Yes, you are.

Immediately after that, Spicer was straddling my lap and kissing me. I tried to protest, but... well.

Jack. Jack's _ass_. I have been without either of them for far too long.

I magicked some lubricant to use and working together, we got him stretched and lubricated and then, he slowly eased down onto my cock and began gently riding me.

Jack: Poor baby... this feel good? Does it feel good, Chase? I mean, you haven't had sex with your favoritest whore in, like, three weeks almost.

Me: *trying to concentrate beyond the sublime feeling of his perfect-hot-tight around my cock* Haven't had it with anyone in almost three weeks. Ride _faster_ , just a bit, _there_ we go!

He was shocked, especially when further querying turned up the fact I had only wanted to have sex with him and hadn't been able to because of his coma and subsequent brain death.

Jack was so flattered that he wanted _lots_ of sex from me. I indulged him because I wanted it, too. It just felt _so perfect_ to be inside him again; to come inside of him again!

Although, I must admit, I got a little worried when he fell asleep in the middle of our third round. One moment, he was sliding up and down my erection. The next, he’d gone limp and plopped forward against my chest. I woke him up so I could finish, and then tucked us both into bed.

We are _definitely_ going to have to work on his stamina.

Oh, Jack... welcome _home_.


	136. Monday, May 18, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Mantis Flip Coin is, once again, on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Are petty assholes.  
Cupcakes: I stopped counting after ten. >=3

  
Spicer is slowly getting back into the swing of things, and by “swing of things” I mean he is pacing himself in his sexual escapades. Since he’s not fully up to having sex just yet, as falling asleep mid-coitus proved, he’s restricting himself to blowjobs and handjobs.

Not that I mind, since he’s quite skillful with both. >=]

He gave a brilliant display with his mouth earlier. He—

 **Edited to Add: An hour or so has passed**

Spicer has gone back to his own room, but he had interrupted me for yet another round of cocksucking. My pretty little slut has begun to develop what he jokingly refers to as a “Consort Sense,” similar to the “Spider Sense” of a well-known comic book hero. Only, instead of sensing danger, he is sensing my horniness!

It might very well be true. He _did_ have a brush with death; his brain _was_ changed. To be honest, I’m surprised he’s behaving as normally as he is. People with exceptionally high mental acuity are more prone to remember things that happen to them. With Jack’s IQ being as high as it is, he ought to have remembered every single detail of his brain death.

Still, I shan’t complain that he’s back to what passes for normal, even with the Consort Sense that brought him into my room just as I was reminiscing about the luscious blowjob he’d given me earlier.

Even that was interrupted, though. Jack had been watching TV when I’d gone to him for sex. He’d been on his knees between my thighs, sucking me with that hot, wet, perfect mouth of his, when a news segment had caught his attention. It had been about the world population wondering if he was ever going to give them children.

Spicer was confused and incensed enough to stop sucking me off and demand an explanation. I told him what his parents had attempted to do with his bodily fluids and how I’d given Jack’s diary to his brother with that one entry about “CHILDREN: DO NOT WANT” to use to tie up the courts in order to buy me time to get him fixed.

However, Spicer _does_ know his place as my consort. He grumbled about the situation he’d been in, but quickly got back to the important things in life: Me, my dick, and my sexual pleasure.

……Hmmm. He must be asleep. He hasn’t come sneaking in yet, despite the fact I’m lying here in bed with my cock hard as a rock and eager for more of his tongue.

Perhaps beneath the breakfast table in the morning. >=3


	137. Tuesday, May 19, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Mantis Flip Coin is on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Have proved yet again how low class they are – well, two of them have.  
Cupcakes: YES. >=]

  
I’m relaxing in bed and smoking a cigar after another round of “Consort Sense” induced fucking. I’m rather pleased with Spicer’s new found ability, especially as he felt well enough and energized enough to want to engage in full-fledged sex. Mmmmm… the memory of him on his back, clawing at mine as I drove into him with his ankles hooked behind my neck…

Mmmm. Must stay in control. He’s tired and needs his rest.

Spicer has had an exhausting day. He saw Omi for the first time today. I walked past and saw Omi clinging to Jack’s leg. I stayed out of sight and simply observed them, but was startled to see the look of discomfort and sympathy on Jack’s face. He _knows_ that Omi is the one who injured him so badly his brain died, but still…

Ah, well. Spicer has always been too quick to forgive. He’s so soft and mushy that way; so desperate for the slightest hint of respect and concern.

Hence why he also forgave Clay Bailey, but _not_ Raimundo or Tohomiko. When Spicer went to Guan’s temple to see how the monks were faring, Bailey was the only one to apologize.

The other two took back their sorrow and regret the instant they saw that Jack was up, walking around, and alright.

If I know Guan, he’s going to be breaking out the big guns for training those two fairly soon.

Although, with Tohomiko as paralyzed as she is, they might need to find a new Dra—

Oh.

Oh, I have had the most deliciously evil thought. >=3

I believe I’ll remind Jack of the “Heal Me Juice” and that he should torture Tohomiko with it. “Look what I have! This can fix you back to the way you were before my Lord and Master snapped your spine like a pretzel! How badly do you want it?”

Oh, yes… I believe we’ll just have to see _that_ happen!

In other news, Katnappé stopped by and tried to seduce me again. I was feeling gracious enough that I considered it, but sent her away untouched. I’m still in the mood mostly for Spicer’s ass, now that it’s accessible again.

Maybe later, I’ll indulge in female sex. For now, Jack is hot, tight, and completely submissive to me.

Beautiful, dirty boy. >=3


	138. Wednesday, May 20, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Mantis Flip Coin is on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Easily mess-withable. I don’t CARE that it isn’t a word.  
Cupcakes: No, but I’m alright with that.

I am more pleased with Spicer than I have been since his newfound maturity "growth spurt" started even before we began sharing blankets!

While we had sex this morning - hot, wonderful sex; he's _so fucking responsive!_ \- I described my Evil Genius Idea of how to taunt the monks with the Heal Me Juice.

In between fucking himself lewdly on my cock, coming beautifully, and declaring me a Sex God (Spicer does so know how to handle my ego), he also declared me an evil genius of the highest caliber. When he could move again, he bathed and dressed and went down to his lab to refine the Heal Me Juice. Then, he went scooting off over to Guan's Temple while I stayed home to watch on the Eye Spy Orb in case he needed quick removal before the monks could _murder_ him again.

It was _glorious_.

Jack arrived and was greeted with embarrassed silence by the cowboy, sneers and disdain from Pedrosa and Tohomiko (though I couldn't help but notice that Pedrosa's one remaining eye was giving Jack an appreciative stare). He told them about the Heal Me Juice, how it worked... and that there was only enough for _one_ of the sanctimonious little shits and then tossed it on the ground at their feet.

What resulted was a disgusting scuffle that _should_ have been hilarious but was more sad and pathetic than anything else despite my pleasure in how Jack played them so well. Tohomiko managed to flop dramatically out of her wheelchair. Pedrosa stole the vial of Heal Me Juice and even beat up on his badly damaged "girlfriend" to help her realize how little he actually cares for her.

Guan had a hissy fit of almost godly proportions. I'm certain Dashi, if his spirit was watching, was trying to hang himself in shame.

I went to collect Jack, since he was incapacitated with laughter. He gave me a perfectly filthy grin and then leaped on me; twined around me and kissed me so lewdly I'm surprised Guan didn't burst into flames just from the sight of us.

 _Hah._ Puritanical old fool. He has no idea what he's been missing out on for the last 1,500 years!

Nevertheless, I demonstrated how pleased I am with Jack's sharpened manipulation of malice by fucking him into the mattress. I'm fairly certain he considers it a suitable reward. >=]


	139. Thursday, May 21, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Star Hanabi is on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Probably wishing they were dead right now.  
Cupcakes: No; too busy dealing with Spicer Trauma.

Today has been tense.

Spicer had sex with me this morning, went to his lab, and then...

I'm not quite certain how I knew that something was wrong, because I was not actively paying attention to him, but while I was reading the news on the Internet (Spicer installed a computer for me that runs so much more efficiently than any of the socially available computers that it's not even funny) I felt a strange sense of.... _something is wrong_.

I followed the wrongness to its source and found Spicer curled up in a ball on the floor of his lab, shuddering so hard I thought he was going to break, and sobbing.

He couldn't speak; couldn't tell me what was wrong but I had only to look into his crimson eyes and see the utter _horror_ there – and to see the robot with its metal cranium opened – to realize what had happened.

The moment I'd dreaded had arrived: Spicer recalled his brain death.

I sat down beside him and then pulled him onto my lap and held him against me. I stroked his hair and murmured reassuringly and I have NO idea why I did so.

Or, perhaps, I do. He is functionally useless to me if he remains traumatized.

I managed to calm him down enough that he could go back to bed. He slept off and on, so exhausted by his reaction that he had no choice BUT to sleep.

Still, I wasn't terribly surprised when he scratched timidly on my door and came to me seeking safety from his horrible memories.

He is curled up beside me in bed now. No, we did not have sex. Jack is too "delicate" right now for such antics. His head is resting on my thigh and I cannot seem to stop playing with his hair. It is thick, soft, and I admit that I am entranced by the color of it.

Spicer seems to have enough faith in me and my "bad-assery," as he calls it, that my very presence is keeping his nightmares at bay. Given that I can smell the faint hint of vomit on his breath and the dark circles under his eyes are from trauma, not make-up, I can't begrudge him using me to fight his personal demons.

I want sex and I want a functioning minion. I want Spicer to be the one to do both.

I hope this clears up soon. If not, I'm hauling his pale, shapely little ass straight on over to his Granny so _she_ can beat some sense into him.


	140. Friday, May 22, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Star Hanabi is on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: I would kill them, but that would only REMOVE their suffering.  
Cupcakes: No; too busy dealing with Spicer Trauma.

I take back what I wrote yesterday: Not even my presence is doing much to help Spicer's traumatic evening episodes, anymore.

I'm doing the best I can to help him get back to normal because I want his genius working for me and I want to _fuck him_. I can't _do_ that right now, damn it.

So, I've cuddled and coddled and accommodated him, all for nothing. I even read his Diary entry on the subject to better help me figure out how to fix this.

It looks more and more like a trip to Granny Spicer is in order.  
 **  
Edited to Add:**

Oh, balls and damnation. I just had a horrible thought. What if Spicer tries to kill himself because he can't cope...?


	141. Saturday, May 23, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Star Hanabi is on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: By now, wishing Guan had died years ago like he was supposed to.  
Cupcakes: No. Sexing. =D

Today has been a resounding success!

As I had thought, it was necessary to take Spicer to see his Granny. Phyllis is a _marvel_ where Jack is concerned (creepy stalker-like tendencies aside).

It started with me breaking into his diary again. I had to be certain, I had to _make sure_ , that Spicer was not in danger of becoming so mentally broken by this that he tried to mutilate or kill himself. I found no such evidence, but I think I got it through that ( _literally_ ) ninny-hammered skull of his that when I accepted him, he became _mine_. His life may end _only_ when I say so and not a moment sooner!

I also let him know that, no, 'letting it sit and hope it goes away on its own' is _not_ a valid therapy method. So, I took him to his grandmother's penthouse in Bruges, which is a beautiful city in and of itself. The bonus was that it was also hosting the annual Choco-Laté festival. _Chocolate!_ As far as the eye could see! Chocolate of all shapes, sizes, textures and flavors!

Say what you will, but at least Spicer's breakdown happened at a fortuitous (for me) time! >=]

I dropped him off with Phyllis and watched as she whacked a few new bruises into his body with her cane while yelling at him for getting better and not telling her. She called him "monkey-dick" and "idiot." It makes me wonder how on earth Spicer became such a failure with such a formidable woman in his family line.

Once the two of them stopped hugging on each other – because, despite everything, Phyllis is Jack's grandmother and she does love him tremendously – I explained what was happening with Spicer and then left him for her to deal with.

As for me, I magicked myself into civilian clothes and kept my ears covered, and then went out amongst the smelly mortals in search of chocolate perfection.

By the time I returned, having acquired several thousand Euros’ worth of premium chocolate (some already cooked and shaped, some in powder or liquid or block form for baking), Jack was flying high on a bottle of premium vodka and in _much_ better spirits – pardon the pun.

I took Jack home where he proceeded to do such marvelously filthy, degenerate, sexually delicious things to my body that I was astounded! His mouth, his _tongue_....! Oh, _gods_ , the way he rode my cock...!

We took a break for food, meaning that Spicer cooked dinner. Apparently, he'd been feeling like he was failing in his duties or something. Part of me agrees with this, but the other part.... Spicer was essentially _raped_. His Will had been ignored and his wishes discarded. What he wanted had been dismissed. He was recovering and he needed time to do so without feeling put upon.

He made Chili Con Carne with bitter chocolate and Pork with Coffee and White Chocolate Sauce. He made chocolate and fruit kebabs. He made the richest, moistest, most sumptuous chocolate cake I have _ever_ had the pleasure of eating in my long life.

To top it all off, he made Chocolate-coated Spicer.

Definitely my favorite, by far! >=]

He seemed to think so as I licked chocolate off of him, ever-so-slowly.

Naturally, with all of that heavy, rich food, we spent a bit of time in our gyms; Spicer in the one I made for him and I in mine. He has some silly aversion to letting me see him working out.

Either way, we burned off some calories with exercise equipment, and then reconvened in my bedroom for some sexual calisthenics.

Now, as I write this, Spicer is in his bedroom – no doubt scribbling in his journal even as I scribble in mine; the both of us recovering, or attempting to, from eight hours of incredible sex.

Note to self: Send a thank you gift of chocolate to Katnappé for making Spicer's recovery possible and a thank you gift to Phyllis for once again gluing the broken shards of Spicer’s mind back together.


	142. Sunday, May 24, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Star Hanabi is on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Some of the most brazenly stupid people on the planet.  
Cupcakes: Yes. Before the sexing. =D

  
1) Guan's got his work cut out for him. This batch of young monks are entirely spoilt and _stupid_.

2) As demonstrated by Pedrosa, who decided "Jack had to pay" and snuck into my palace (still haven't figured out how he did that, damn it!) with a knife, intending to torture/murder Spicer.

3) Spicer turned the tables on him, tortured him with his own knife, and absolutely _snarled_ hate and blood and vengeance at Pedrosa in German. Apparently, when Spicer gets dangerously angry, he reverts to German – a guttural, glottal language that sounds evil even when spoken by nuns! Wait - bad analogy. Nuns have earned a reputation for church sanctioned evility.

4) Moving on... Spicer is sex personified when he's being dangerous and evil and growling in German. After he'd frightened away Pedrosa – who ran right past me without even seeing me – I pounced Spicer into bed and fucked him so hard his brain shifted gears so that he screamed in Chinese.

5) No, really: Spicer speaking German = Hottest Thing I've Ever Heard In All My Long Life. I may have to insist he speak dirty to me in German when I'm fucking him. Just the thought of sliding in and out Jack's tight heat while hearing him begging him to fuck me in that guttural language—

6) This number on the list is taking place some time after the last one. It is now confirmed: Spicer has definitely developed a "Consort Sense." He woke up out of a sound sleep, stared at me blearily for a moment, and then unerringly located my hard cock with his mouth and sucked me off, licked me clean, and then promptly went back to sleep.

7) I am the luckiest Heylin monster that ever lived! >=]


	143. Monday, May 25, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Star Hanabi is on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Really don’t care right now.  
Cupcakes: With breakfast. I earned the right to inhale calories.

Gods of Evil, my groin _hurts_.

Spicer and I have done nothing _except_ fuck today.

It started with our usual morning antics only this time, I made good on my plans to have him speak Deutsch to me in bed. I startled him by speaking the same language, complete with filthy slang when I ordered him to suck my cock – which he _did_ after coming so hard he could barely move at all.  >=]

Then, the rotten little twerp decided to play a prank on me. He made me believe he was going to work on the Tech Star Hanabi so I took the opportunity for a relaxing soak. The next thing I know, Spicer is walking into my bathroom stark naked and wearing only the Passion's Pendant Shen-Gong-Wu.

He spoke its name and... his appearance didn't change at all, and yet, I was absolutely _desperate_ to have him. He'd become irresistible; living eroticism to be craved, to be had.

The Passion's Pendant had been cooked up by a frustrated and horny monk that had fallen in love with a governor's daughter. She wouldn't have him because he was rather ugly and not prone to bathing. The monk fixed that with the Passion's Pendant by turning himself into (in the girl's eyes) the most desirable, fuckable man on the planet.

He was so shocked when the girl committed suicide when the spell wore off. Stupid monk.

All of that boring history aside, Spicer was perfect in my eyes at that moment and I, being the way I am, have always craved perfection.

I fucked him in a desperate fervor for a few hours before I asserted control over myself again. Irritated at being so blatantly manipulated, I turned the tables on Spicer and donned the Passion's Pendant myself. I am already perfect; with the Shen-Gong-Wu, I became even more so to Jack, who responded accordingly.

Eventually, I tired of the SGW's influence and removed it altogether. I prefer to make him that greedy and needy for me naturally, and said as much. We fucked – again and again and again, until we were both too sore to do anything. We rolled around, stroking and caressing each other, just because we could.

I haven't been that sore since... well. Since that dirty, rotten, rapist witch drugged me with sexual enhancement medication. Because of my dislike of what happened, I warned Spicer that if I was suddenly so randy for him was because of him drugging me, there would be ten-thousand hells to pay.

He negated the accusation and then gave me a theory on why I am so insistent on rutting him: It's because I _can_. It's because he was healed, made whole, and returned to me for my continued enjoyment of his lewd tongue and tight ass.

Spicer's theory makes a lot of sense, actually. I told him so and then, because I was too tired to move, I stayed in his bed and used his not-as-soft-and-squishy-as-it-used-to-be belly for a pillow.

I woke up a little while ago and decided to do a journal entry because Spicer is sound asleep, I'm still sore and he undoubtedly is too, and I have _magic_. I don't have to move if I don't want to! So, I brought the journal to me and here I remain.

I'm finished for today's entry. I'm still tired and Spicer's pleasantly comfortable middle is looking more and more inviting all the time.


	144. Tuesday, May 26, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Star Hanabi is on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Totally, completely, ABSOLUTELY pissed off. =D  
Cupcakes: MMMMMmmmmm.

  
Since sex was off the agenda for today, Spicer decided to trounce the monks – again.

>=]

Several Shen-Gong-Wu went active; none of them were particularly necessary to either of us beyond Spicer's plan to study and re-design them as technological toys. That in mind, Spicer went to get them simply because he felt like being a pain in the ass to the remaining Xiaolin Dragons. I kept an eye on him through the Eye Spy Orb and watched Pedrosa all but piss himself in fear and back down from Spicer's challenge immediately. The cut Jack gave him is definitely going to scar. Unfortunately, it will add to his rakish good looks.

Tohomiko is still healing from the damage I did to her. The Heal Me Juice works quickly enough, but it still takes _some_ time. So, since she was in no shape to do battle, that left Clay – with his badly damaged leg and its now permanent limp – to go up against Jack.

Jack, naturally, went into the showdowns with gusto. It was a bit like sandblasting a soup cracker.

Then, the best part of the day occurred. Spicer was on his way back to the palace (had, actually, just arrived and was apparently in search of me for some non-penetrative sex) when his SGW alert bracelet went off. He had a brilliant idea. He borrowed my Tech GTC Gloves and, using the Thing Finder, located the new Shen-Gong-Wu. He then used the GTC Gloves to switch the 'Wu with the video device he'd retrieved from his room, programmed to play something in particular. He begged me very prettily to watch what happened on the Eye Spy Orb. I had to admit... I was curious, and that was why I teleported us to the throne room so we could watch....

 **_The Xiaolin Monks get RickRoll'd by Jack Spicer!_ **

I haven't laughed that hard in centuries. >=D

This, of course, led Spicer to pestering me about Internet trends. Naturally, I am familiar with them. I decided that it's best to know what the people of the world are fascinated with in case I ever wish to exploit it, and then, I accepted a technocrat as my sexual partner. I had damned well _better_ know something about computers and the Internet!

So I happen to find LOLCATs amusing; so what? Everyone knows cats are evil dressed up in cute fur.

That's when Spicer introduced me to something called _Not Always Right_. It's an Internet website that collects stories and quotes about customers that retail and business workers have run across that transcend every possible boundary of crazy, rude, and stupid – sometimes all three at once. NAR is amusing even as it makes me groan and wonder why the gods decided to put a bunch of naked monkeys in charge of this poor planet.

Ah, well. In other news, Spicer did, indeed, try to get some non-penetrative sex going between us, but I had to decline. My groin still aches from the sex marathon yesterday while my balls are alternately numb and tingly in that "arm fell asleep OW" way. If I thought Spicer had any self control, I'd have him massage me, but I know full well he'd try to "massage" me via blowjob if I got naked anywhere near him, the oversexed albino chimp.

The instant I feel better, though, I'll have him bent over his work table so fast his head will spin! >=]


	145. Wednesday, May 27, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Star Hanabi is now returned to me)  
Monks: Probably still whining about being RickRoll’d yesterday.  
Cupcakes: Are delicious!

Spicer has surprised me yet again.

I'm beginning to think that's why I never actually made an effort to kill him (random boulders and reanimated dinosaurs do not count): He is unpredictable in the truly important things.

Today, for instance... he declared to me that he would truly like to learn martial arts and that he would prefer it if Omi taught him. His reasons for wanting these things are that he would like to have enough warrior training to survive any fights he happens to get into and that by having Omi teach him, it would save Spicer and I frustration and remove any sexual obstacles.

I have mentioned before that Spicer is a genius. He is also possessed of a great deal of common sense. I don't want to know if the common sense is a recent thing due to his newfound maturity. I can't decide what's worse: It being a new development or him having had it all along and choosing to not use it.

He has, also, finished the Tech Star Hanabi. It is a heat and fire generator, of course, but once again a self-power generating device. I do not know how he creates such things, nor do I wish to know. Mine is not to understand how Spicer's brain thinks up the things it does, only that said brain will be put to use however I wish.

I've no doubt he will do as I request of him, no matter what it may be. Design doomsday devices...? Certainly. Turn the monks into gibbering wrecks...? With relish. Go to his knees whenever and wherever I tell him to, and suck me off slowly and luxuriously...? _Mmmmm_. What a _lovely_ mental image that is. Spicer, his lips slightly pink with arousal; licked wet and held open for me as I slip my hard cock between them to be met by the lithe, lewd curl of his tongue....

 **Edited to Add:**

It is now some two hours later. Spicer is passed out in the rumpled mess of blankets on my bed and I am smoking a rum-flavored cigar. His Consort Sense went off while I was writing today's entry. He came to me and did perfectly filthy things to my cock with his mouth, and then leaned over the bed, bracing himself on his elbows and arms while I stood behind him and fucked him hard and fast.

Gods, even now, thinking of the luscious heat and tightness of his pert, round little bottom wrapped around my cock, gripping me so perfectly.... Mmmmm. I fucked him until _I_ came, and then I rolled him over and fucked him again; hunched over and rocking desperately between his white thighs while he jerked frantically on his own erection, begging for me to make him come.

I did, naturally.

And when he had, I came inside of him again, and then made him suck me clean – although, "made" is rather a poor choice of words considering that all I had to do was hold my cock out to him suggestively and he had his mouth open before I could even form the words.

I suppose it's that newfound "Consort Sense" of his that enables him to easily anticipate when I desire sex. I have my own theory as to how that happened. Spicer was _dead_. He was pieced back together with nanites. I kissed him soon after he woke up and returned to me, while the nanites were still working and his spirit was still settling back within his body.

I think the tiny little machines incorporated part of my DNA from when I kissed Jack while they finalized repairs inside him. In essence, they created an unintentional link between us. Oh, nothing so dramatic as a "telepathic bond" – as if anything so ridiculously sci-fi could exist anywhere but in comic books and badly written television shows and badly written books about sparkling vampires.

Still, with that tiny bit of me worked into his genetic material and the magic imbued in it, he now has a link of _some_ sort to me. Why it is only my _sexual_ desire he picks up on, I don't know and am not certain I wish to explore it. It is enough that he _does_ and responds _very_ well, indeed.

He is worn out from the quick, rough and tumble sex, yet I believe I shall wake him up again in just a few moments. Simply remembering the feel of sliding into the heat and tightness of him has made me hard again, and I find I want to experience it once more before I go to sleep tonight.

That being the case... I suppose I better wake him up now. >=]


	146. Thursday, May 28, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52  
Monks: Horribly annoyed. >=]  
Cupcakes: 4

Today was... okay. That's the best I can do for it right now. It wasn't great, but it wasn't bad.

I ended up watching TV with Spicer today to save my palace and my priceless treasures from the lethal being that is a bored genius teenager.

We watched _Metalocalypse_. It's a dark comedy American animated television show following the daily lives of the part-American/part-Scandinavian band known as Dethklok.

I must confess, after watching the show, that Spicer reminds me entirely too much of the band. The silver lining to this is that he is lovely to look at and entirely fantastic in bed.

Spicer and I share a liking for the band manager, Charles Ofdensen. He's an attorney and a paper-pusher, but he's a deadly fighter and cold to the core. He would, actually, make a decent addition to the Heylin team were he real.

....Did I actually say "team" when referring to the Heylin side? Gods of evil, help me!

Naturally, once we got bored of watching television, we turned to our tried-and-true activity of fucking each other silly. I use the term "silly" because we used the glitter lube today. Let's just say I'm glad I wear gloves and armor skirting, and Jack, well... his defecations are going to sparkle for a while. I've resigned myself to at least a week of raucous laughter coming from the bathroom and "Twilight" jokes. Spicer told me all about that so-called "book" and I find myself alternately amazed and terrified of humanity's collective stupidity yet again.

The upside to Spicer's boredom is that he has decided he'll live longer if he does not turn the force of his bored antics on me and mine, and has instead taken to subtly harassing the Xiaolin monks. Knowing perfectly well the strength of a Spicer-induced migraine, all I can do is settle in with a wickedly smug sense of "See how _you_ like it, brats!"


	147. Friday, May 29, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52  
Monks: Whatever.  
Cupcakes: 1

1: Sex was had today. What a surprise.

2: Spicer is still bored. I am beginning to worry for both of our sanities' sakes.

3: I am starting to feel... not dissatisfied with having sex with Spicer, but definitely like I need some variety. Spicer is lovely and energetic and a generous lover, but he lacks a vagina. I believe that I want the soft, wet heat of a female for now.

4: Note to self: Call Katnappé soon. The little freak is always eager to be fucked by you and she's just as slutty in bed as Spicer is (though more annoying, and how is _that_ possible?).


	148. Saturday, May 30, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52  
Monks: Whatever.  
Cupcakes: 1

  
Gods _damn_ that stupid, moronic, fucking _freak_ Katnappé!

I never thought this would happen, but she has taken Spicer's place amongst the Heylin roster as the "brilliant idiot." Whereas Jack used to be the inept, socially retarded genius, Katnappé was the "too cool for school" type. She had flair, she had attitude, she had the sexy vibes, and she had the genius.

Role reversal has occurred. Now, Spicer is the one with attitude and sexy vibes and genius.

Katnappé is the one who, when summoned for sex, doesn't bother to _ask_ if it's alright to _fucking inject me with a body-altering serum_ – she just _does_ it!

I had summoned her this morning even _before_ breakfast; simply too eager to fuck a woman. She arrived while Spicer was elsewhere in my palace, most likely making breakfast. Like the perfect consort he is, he knew better than to have a tantrum or interrupt me while I chose to rut someone else to satisfy my body's urges.

Katnappé sashayed into my bedroom, dressed not in her usual cat suit, but in a beautiful robe for easy removal (though it _did_ have cats _on_ it). I was lounging in my bed, watching her approach; my thoughts dark and hot with arousal at the thought of rutting between her soft, lust-wet thighs.

She came to me, crawled to me in a sexy maneuver... and as I reached for her, she stabbed me with a needle!

She dodged the strike I aimed at her and told me, with an eager grin, of what she'd done. Even as she spoke, I could _feel_ my body changing. My scalp ached, my skull ached, my hair parted... and _fucking cat ears_ sprouted from the top of my head!

It seems she wanted a "tom" to mate her and so she'd simply decided to turn me into one _without fucking asking!_

Unsurprisingly, any desire to fuck her died a fast death. I threw her out of my palace, literally, all while berating her stupidity and letting her know that until she realized that she may _not_ do whatever she wants to me sexually without asking my permission, I wouldn't be getting my dick anywhere near her.

I had half a mind to remind her of the deal we had made prior to forging a sexual relationship, the first stipulation of which was to never use my bodily fluids (DNA included!) in any way without my permission. However, the irritant found a way around it and, as she explained, merely injected me with a cocktail of hormones that caused the ears rather than tampering with my DNA.

I was angry, but... instead of sparring or anything physical that would relieve my annoyance, I sought out Spicer's company. The way his eyes widened when he saw me... I have no idea how he held back laughter, but he did it, and served me breakfast while I snarled and raged about the cat ears that had been temporarily forced upon me.

Spicer is a godsend, though it still shocks me to say such. He was perfectly attentive, sympathetic and understanding without being obsequious. His handling of me allowed my anger to fade, which, naturally, meant that my lust returned to the fore. However, my pleasure in Jack's care of me meant that my focus was now solely on him.

He eagerly attended to his Consort duties, of course! >=]

I think, despite everything we did today, my favorite moment was when he first responded to my obvious arousal. He approached me submissively there in the dining room. I pushed my chair back to give him room and he went to his knees between my legs and proceeded to give me a lavish, luxurious, thoroughly decadent blow-job. He was utterly focused on pleasuring me with his lips and tongue, ignoring his own arousal as he sucked, licked, and drove me wild.

After I'd come, I took him back upstairs to bed where I rutted him for hours, losing myself in the pleasure of how tight he is and how ready and eager to serve me. Certainly, he enjoys my attentions; he experiences genuine ecstasy at each stroke of my tongue, each caress from my hand... each thrust of my cock inside him. Yet, this one area is where Spicer is not selfish. Instead of thinking only of his own pleasure, he gives his all to making certain that _I_ am satisfied.

I very much was satisfied today. >=]

Gods, the things he did to me...! I loved it when I had him on his knees in bed, taking him from behind and he shifted his position just enough so that he could roll his hips in a lewd, wildly arousing motion. I held still, enjoying the sensation for as long as I could stand it until I had no choice but to move. I fucked him, hard and fast, and Jack came with a harsh shriek; just from being fucked by my cock! No touch to himself, no nothing... he came simply because it was me fucking him.

Spicer is _so_ wonderful for my ego.

Much later, however, when we were resting, I allowed him to inspect the cat ears that stupid freak woman inflicted on me. Jack petted them and scratched the bases just right all while declaring them perfect but of course, they had to be, since they were made from my body. Unsubtle flatterer, but I was in the mood for blatant brown-nosing.

I let him know, naturally, why he is my favorite Consort. _He_ does not take me for granted. _He_ does not assume that he may do whatever he wants with me! _Jack_ is my favorite because he does not give me anything I did not ask for.

So giving in bed, so perfect... gods, I want him again. Right now, I want him. I want to lounge back against my pillows, sitting up, while he straddles me and rides my cock, and I can watch him lose his mind with pleasure....

Ahah! A knock at my door. I should have known Spicer's Consort Sense would kick in. >=]

Come to me, my perfect, beautiful sex toy.


	149. Sunday, May 31, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52  
Monks: Probably cursing Spicer’s continued existence.  
Cupcakes: 8

Spicer is almost intolerable with smuggery right now, but I must admit, it is well-deserved smuggery.

It seems some intrepid moron (I suspected his parents, but they're steering well clear of him) managed to bribe just the right person or simply indulged in a bit of thievery. Either way, Spicer's juvenile records – school, health, all of that record-keeping nonsense the modern human world seems to require in order to continue functioning – have been leaked to the world.

In particular, Spicer's educational records have been leaked. The entire world found out that he dropped out of school at Grade 6. Personally speaking, I would have dropped out, too, if the educational institutions of the world had nothing to challenge me with, either.

Spicer had a _fit_ when he found out. As it is, he has dozens of corporate minions scouring the globe to find the source of the information leak. He took matters into his own hands by calling a press conference. The reporters grilled him up one wall and down another – or, rather, they _tried_ to. They tried to make him insecure about his work since he never attended high school or college. He put them all neatly in their places and then, again, when he agreed to take a live, on-the-spot IQ exam with cameras ringed around him so that he could not possibly cheat. Two hours later, he was seated at a desk, cameras around him, and worked his way through the exam so quickly that even I was having doubts.

By the end of it, it was discovered that his IQ has actually _risen_. It used to be 312; now, it is 320.

Jack can't stop crowing about the melancholy on the naysayers' faces when he showed them how wrong-Wrong-WRONG they'd been to doubt him. The insecure little insects had been hoping for his intellect to be flawed; hoping that he was actually no better than they were.

He is now, officially, the most intelligent living human on the planet.

Last I saw him an hour ago, he was further taunting the world by easily and handily solving supposedly "unsolvable" math and physics problems. He's hoping for at least one suicide-in-a-fit-of-despair out of this.

Brat. Smug, rotten little brat.

>=]


	150. Monday, June 1, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52  
Monks: Don’t know, don’t care. =D  
Cupcakes: A few.

Spicer has pleased me _immensely_ today. He has been evil, he has been wicked, and he has serviced me perfectly sexually.

It would seem that, despite his pleasure in proving to his detractors that he really is "all that and a bag of chips," as the saying goes, Jack was still pissed about the information leak. His brother gave him information that had only just recently come to his attention, thus sending Jack in the right direction for his search.

He discovered that a less-than-truly-competent hacker had been employed by a rival company that wanted to discredit Spicer to keep him from becoming even more of a threat to business and finances. Jack... he...

I simply can't think of what he did _without_ getting hard.  >=]

Spicer had the hacker abducted by his Jackbots so he could discover how _much_ of his personal information had been pilfered and what the plans were for it. Jack, for the first time in his life, physically tortured another living creature. He had the hacker's nose and fingers removed. The fingers I can understand, as they are the hacker's livelihood, but the nose... that was done purely because nose injuries hurt like a _bitch_. Even to this day, I can recall sparring with Guan when we were training at the Temple and he managed to nick one of my nostrils. The result was me, crying and screaming like a baby and Guan frantically trying to calm me down while also laughing hard enough to piss himself.

Gods, I hate that bastard.

I watched Spicer torture and maim the hapless hacker, hard as steel the entire time. I wanted nothing more than to fuck him right there in front of his victim, but I would not have done so. It would have undermined Spicer's authority, though the sight of two men engaged in frantic copulation would have been another form of torture as the hacker had continually snarled anti-homosexual epithets at Jack. It didn't seem to bother Spicer, much, if the smirk on his face – and the _incredibly detailed account of sucking cock_ he used against the hacker – were any indication.

Gods, the thought of his mouth and tongue... I want that again. Right now. I want to be standing, with Jack on his knees before me, hungrily sucking....

Later. As in: a few minutes, later. Spicer is no doubt sensing my arousal. He will come to me.

Once Jack was done with the hacker, he then decided to use the same tactics against the company that had tried to discredit him in the first place. He created a computer virus that completely and totally decimated the company and its clientele. Before irreparably destroying the company's information, Spicer's virus popped up on every video-screen it infested with the words "DO NOT FUCK WITH ME AGAIN" in big, bold letters. Catastrophic system failures were then initiated, rolling through the company's network in a domino shockwave of "Oh, shit, there's nothing we can do!"

In the span of six hours, Jack horribly maimed his enemy's operative _and_ utterly crushed his enemy.

Naturally, Spicer knows me well enough by now to know that such actions were incredibly arousing. He sought me out for sex immediately upon trouncing his enemy. He knew I was in the throne room, watching via Eye Spy Orb, and so he came to me there. He walked through the doors, leaving a trail of clothing behind and held a tube of lubricant in his hand. He went to his knees between my feet and sucked me while preparing himself. Then, he climbed up, settled himself astride me, and rode me hard and fast while allowing me to scratch and bite and mark him vividly.

Gods... I love throne sex. I really, really _love_ throne sex!

Spicer gave me the lap dance to end all lap dances, making me come. I was still so incredibly aroused by his vicious display of evility that I moved us around; put him face down over the seat of the throne and fucked him from behind.

By the time I was done with him, he'd stained the pink velvet upholstery, but it was so worth it. >=]

Ah... my door opens after a quick knock. Yes; there he is. Such pretty white skin with such brutal marks of bruises and red scratches left all over him. He crawls onto the mattress, now; crawls toward me.

Oh... his mouth is around me, just carefully sucking the tip of my cock. Lower, Spicer. Go lower, take me in – yes! Like that! _Suck_....

Perfect boy. Perfect slut.


	151. Tuesday, June 2, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52  
Monks: Unimportant.  
Cupcakes: 7

  
For a frighteningly intelligent man, Spicer is the most idiotic dolt I've ever met in my life.

Today, he decided he wanted to work on Tech Shen-Gong-Wu again. I gave him the Helmet of Jong (admittedly, a challenge to translate from magic to technology) and told him to figure it out.

His brain got to work on the problem, alright. He's decided he either has to plant a microchip that will relay images from the technological device either into his eyes or into his _brain_.

Yes! Despite his fear and trauma that required Granny Spicer to sort him out of the last go 'round with brain surgery, he's contemplating having brain surgery done on himself _again_ just to make this idea work. Apparently, it is entirely _impossible_ for him to admit there are some things that simply _do not_ need to be followed through on!

I'm firmly convinced that if Jack were to turn into a dog, he'd be one of those highly annoying terrier-types; most likely a Jack Russel.

The boy is a _moron_. How in the name of the seven standard hells would he think I'd agree to something like this? He ran the idea past me: I ran it right back at him.

NO.

Just... NO.

If the little fool tries it, I'll fix it so he can't move comfortably for a _month_ \- and _not_ in the good way!

Hmph. I'm still annoyed; to the point I have frustration to work off, but not via sex. Given that Spicer is soaking in a tub to ease away a stress-headache, I believe I'll go spar with my warriors. Or go kick a hole or three into Guan's mountain; possibly his head.


	152. Wednesday, June 3, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Helmet of Jong on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Could die, for all I care.  
Cupcakes: 0 (too irritated)

  
Well, this is a first for me.

I have _never_ been insulted quite so thoroughly as I was today, and by _Spicer_ of all people.

We were having sex, in _my_ bed. He was beneath me; it was hot, it was _good_ , I was almost near climax—

“…Maybe if I use nanotechnology to get the microchip into my head _instead_ of brain surgery…” popped out of his mouth.

Right. Then. And. There.

Yes! While my cock was inside him and I was attempting to give him pleasure as well as get some for myself, he starts talking _science!_

That miserable, snot-nosed naked _yard ape!_

I called him that, too, as I was throwing him out of my room. He has all the culture and sophistication of a retarded gin-chimp. He probably draws his precious diagrams by sticking his hand down his diaper to gather "art supplies!"

 _Damn_ that boy and his lousy sense of timing!

I should go find Katnappé or even Pedrosa to take care of these blue balls....

...but _no!_ Spicer broke them, _Spicer_ will fix them!

Brat. Unmitigated, uncouth _brat_.


	153. Thursday, June 4, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Helmet of Jong on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Could care less!  
Cupcakes: 12

  
I am pleasantly exhausted, so, a quick run-down of events:

1: Spicer ingratiated himself into my grace once again by baking me a batch of his gourmet brandy butter cream cupcakes.

2: He explained how his brain works; that, once there's a puzzle to be solved, his brain _does not stop_ no matter _what_ his body gets up to.

3: His speech centers were shot all to hell (his words, not mine) by how good the sex was, thus allowing his brain to take over. I _would_ take it as an insult that, despite having sex with me, his brain does not shut down. On the other hand, Spicer's brain _is_ unique. It took _death_ to make him shut down, and even then, it didn't work entirely.

4: He "fixed" the blue balls problem. In fact, he made regular "maintenance checks" on them all night long. >=]

5: It's almost four in the morning. I believe I'm sleeping in today.


	154. Friday, June 5, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Helmet of Jong on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Don't care.  
Cupcakes: 5

  
Today, Spicer told me of the difficulties he's having in trying to get the Tech Helmet of Jong to come together. The way he figures it, having the camera lenses that would be the "eyes" of the machine mounted on the back of his head would be problematic since he spends a great deal of time on his back in my bed.

Or on the couch.

Or the floor.

Or the table.

Or any stable surface, really.

He was muttering about how he didn't really _want_ to have anything implanted into his brain, via microscopic robots or surgery.

I felt compelled to point out that instead of trying to figure out how to make it _work_ , he could try to figure out how to make it _not_ work. That is: instead of creating a Tech Helmet of Jong, figure out how to nullify the already existing version. Given that there are other man-made devices that give their users "long range" or "back of head" type vision already, they would probably fall under the heading of "radar" technology. All Spicer need do is figure out the "stealth" part of it on the opposite side of the fence, so to speak.

Still, that's _his_ problem to figure out.

As for me, I am aware that it is once again June. Already, the temperatures outside are disgustingly hot and humid. I, in my mountain, am cool and comfortable while the rest of China (and similar countries) heave about in varying degrees of discomfort.

Still, it is too early for me to go flaunt my luxury of a temperature-controlled palace. I'll wait until mid-July, or possibly even August, when the heat and humidity will get _worse_.

I love being a spoiled evil sorcerer. >=]


	155. Saturday, June 6, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Helmet of Jong on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Irrelevant.  
Cupcakes: 0 (too nauseated)

I will _get_ that vicious brat if it's the _last_ thing I do. That despicable, rotten, _horrible_ little monster... he showed me some website called "People of Walmart."

Gods of Evil... what have you _done_ to this world?!

Clearly, I have been far too lenient on the human population if what I witnessed on that website actually occurs out in public. I prefer to manipulate plots from the shadows; to orchestrate great and cunning plans that leave all others in ruins and myself smugly secure on high.

What I saw on that website calls for nothing less than the near-total annihilation of the human race.

 _YUCK_.


	156. Monday, June 8, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Helmet of Jong on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: No longer on the radar of importance.  
Cupcakes: 1 (out of respect)

My plans to retaliate some kind of nauseating evil on Jack have fallen by the wayside for now. In light of the horrific murder of the one person in his family he's always known he can depend on...

She was a wonderful asset to the cause of evil. However, with the old bitch gone... who will straighten Spicer out when he goes mental? He's a genius; it goes with the territory. She was the only one who could unravel the knots he's capable of twisting his mind into. With her gone, who will unravel Jack?

As it is, he's knotted himself up into a fine mass of guilt. The hacker that he'd tortured a few weeks ago (cut off the man's fingers and nose) decided to make Spicer pay for daring to get even with him the _first_ time around. He hired a killer to assassinate the old bitch.

The murderer had to work at it, though. In the end, they took each other out. Spicer and I raised many a glass in her honor.

The wake will be held in her house on Wednesday morning. It will be a mixture of Chinese, American, and Irish funeral customs, beginning with the wake. It will have moments of solemn dignity (Chinese), people milling about and making small talk about her (American), and then a wild blow-out drunken bash of revelry for her life (Irish).

Jack is already bitching that he doesn't _want_ to wear blue; he looks _horrible_ in blue! Knowing the color he is speaking of (traditionally, a light shade of blue), I can absolutely agree with that statement. He'd be fine if he were to wear a rich, dark blue, but such is not the case.

However, since he is her favorite grandson, obscenely wealthy, and the darling of the technology world, I'm going to assume that Spicer can wear whatever he wants and get away with it. I'll be sure to remind him of this, if only to stop the whining.

Spicer's brother will be here soon. He's gone to get his lover and then we'll all go traipsing to the wake; an unlikely gaggle of wicked geese and one lone, innocent duckling. I'm going for the liquor, the spectacle, and hopefully, the entertainment. If I've learned anything about Jack's parents, it's that they are opportunists. What better opportunity to start something than at a wake that will no doubt be highly publicized?

I'm hoping they do, actually. Whatever reaction Spicer would have in response would undoubtedly have me laughing so hard I'd be in distress.

I could use a good chuckle right about now.


	157. Wednesday, June 10, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Helmet of Jong on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Who cares?  
Cupcakes: Neglected to keep track.

  
It’s been a hectic day, so I’m skipping June 9th entirely as it is now officially past midnight and, thus, now June 10th.

I was right, but then, I expected to be. Having lived so long on the outskirts of humanity, I've gotten rather good at observing the diseased land-monkeys that think themselves so important to the world. Two of them arrived at the wake which, of course, had journalists discreetly moving through the crowd.

The photographer captured the brawl beautifully. Martin was the first to make a nasty remark within Jack's hearing. Even though he and his wife had come in, playing the part of grieving son and daughter-in-law, parents of the genuinely grieving grandson, there was very little in the way of familial love between Martin and his mother, and none at all between Sylvia and her mother-in-law.

Martin wondered how much he was getting as an inheritance now that the old bitch was gone. He made certain to say it just loud enough for Jack to hear, certain that his son would not dare anything there. Even if Jack _had_ kept his cool, Martin was stupid for not considering retaliation at a later date to be a threat. Which is still an option, if the growling spiky-haired Gerbil of Doom hunched in front of his computer is any indication. I'm pretty sure I heard words about "Viagra prescription" and "saltpeter."

But, no... Jack's response was immediate, shocking, and highly entertaining.

He threw such a punch at Martin that the older Spicer was knocked off his feet and went tumbling ass over heels into a 3-foot-tall sympathy bouquet.

Martin came up swinging, and it was on.

Stone was laughing and placing bets on his little brother being the winner, his lover was utterly mortified, and I was admiring the fine use Jack put to the fighting lessons I'd given him.

Naturally, we all had to leave, but Jack was clearly victorious. I like to think his perverted old granny would have loved the show, but I never saw a trace of her spirit or any other lurking nearby.

I hope he adjusts and gets through this sooner rather than later. For one thing, the occasional bouts of crying and/or sniffling are beginning to grate. For another, we haven't had sex since Jack learned of the murder.

A dragon-lord has needs, too!

Ugh. I can't believe I just said that.

Here's hoping this gets resolved rather quickly.


	158. Thursday, June 11, 4704

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (Falcon's Eye on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Back on the radar, and once more stupid.  
Cupcakes: 9

The older I get, the more stupid Xiaolin Monks become.

Today started out well enough. Spicer’s “Consort Sense” went off last night. He wasn’t _as_ enthusiastic about it as he usually is, but even I can’t blame him for this one. He did enjoy it, though, so I still count it as time well spent.

He cooked breakfast this morning: bleu cheese bite-sized flaky rolls, garlicky eggs, pepper bacon, and dragon sausage. Properly aged, it turns brown, so he didn’t know _what_ he was eating until he grumbled about the oddly tangy flavor. He thought he’d ruined the food and was ready to toss it all out until I informed him of what he was eating.

Spicer’s expression as he struggled to figure out whether or not he wanted to keep eating the sausage was hysterically amusing. Finally, he decided to keep eating. It _is_ an acquired taste, so I don’t think he’ll want more of it any time soon – which is fine, as there aren’t that many dragons around anymore to make a good supply of the sausage.

He seemed to be in a desultory mood, so I asked him what was wrong. He informed me that the Tech Helmet of Jong project was _stupid_. There was already long-range viewing technology and jamming equipment for said technology. He wouldn’t really be coming up with anything new and he was _bored_ of it.

I agreed and told him that I would consider our deal (I give him SGW to study in return for undisclosed favors to be repaid whenever I ask) not broken if he decides to move on to a new Shen-Gong-Wu.

That perked him up, and Jack was all set to head off into his lab with the Falcon’s Eye, when the Super Brats arrived.

Those idiot children seem to think they’re some kind of comic book superheroes. It would explain the inflated sense of importance to themselves and the world. Guan has his work cut out for him with these nits.

They demanded the return of Omi, our surrender, and for Jack to hand over his Heal Me Juice supply.

Jack: The patent just got cleared. It’ll be on the market in a month or two. Save up and buy some.

Monks: No! You give it to us now!

Jack: Why should I?

Monks: You owe us!

Jack: ….What?

Monks: It’s your fault we’re crippled/disfigured! You gotta give us the fix-it stuff to make up for it!

The hissy-fit that followed was _spectacular_. Jack, apparently, had taken it on himself to keep the matter-shifting device on him at all times. He turned himself into various substances and slapped those idiot children all over the place all while screaming at them about how stupid they were and “All’s fair in love and war and he sure as hell didn’t love a gods damned one of ‘em” and “That’s what you _get_ , bitches!”

While that was going on, I sent one of my warriors flying over to Guan’s temple with a message that read: “Your students are committing suicide by pissing my consort off.”

The monks, of course, rallied and started fighting back. I joined in the fray, fighting alongside Jack, who seemed utterly shocked for all of five seconds that I would do so before realizing that I was not about to let anything happen to him – not if I wanted sex to continue between us.

Guan arrived and put a stop to the fight. He tried to shame his students into behaving better, but it didn’t really work… so he started beating up on them. Jack and I sat back and watched, finishing breakfast while enjoying the floor show.

Eventually, the Xiaolin forces (“Team Retard,” as Spicer calls them, which makes me laugh every single time) took off for home and Jack went to get busy in the lab. He’s been there all day, which makes me certain he’s come up with a really good idea and is hard at work.

I, however, have other ideas in mind. All work and no play from Spicer makes _this_ dragon more than a little cranky. I fancy sneaking up behind him, bending him over his work table and….

Why am I bothering to write this down?


	159. Friday, June 12, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Falcon's Eye on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Useless.  
Cupcakes: 6

It's beginning to feel like this year should have been the Year of the Pig, instead of Ox.

Swine Flu has broken bounds and has become a global pandemic. Naturally, pigs everywhere are suspect – except in this household. Jack, with his sick sense of humor, cooked up a pork-heavy breakfast this morning. I quite enjoyed the peppered bacon!

Already, Spicer's detractors have accused him of somehow engineering the virus. His parents in particular have hinted that he's fully capable of doing so – and he is, but Spicer himself summed it up best in a video statement he sent to various media networks.

Spicer: Hello. I'm Jack Spicer; perhaps you've heard of me? I happen to be a _Master of Robotics_. My talent lies in all things _mechanical_. In short: _Tech Lord_ , not _BioGen!_

Having said that, he said he'll get back to working on the new hand-held X-Ray/scanner device he's come up with – unless the world cared to waste yet more of his time with really stupid accusations?

That easily, Spicer's detractors are now being ripped apart by the very people who were beginning to side with them. I find myself wondering how I could _ever_ have thought of Jack as hopelessly stupid. He's cleverer than I gave him credit for. That isn't to say he _doesn't_ have moments of bonehead idiocy, but it isn't his standard setting.

As it is, after he sent the video to the media networks, he smirked at me and wondered if he dared to piss off the retailers by pointing out to the world that the anti- _bacterial_ hand-gel they're purchasing in droves won't do a damned thing to stop the Swine Flu _virus_.

I let him know that he has enough enemies now what with pissing off the oil barons by doing away with humanity's dependence on fossil fuels. He merely laughed and went back to work on the Tech Falcon's Eye.

From what I gather, it will work a lot like those devices in such television shows as Star Trek and Star Wars and so on. It will be a portable, hand-held device that will accurately scan, X-Ray, and analyze a living body – thus eliminating deadly cancer from radiation.

No wonder so many people are flocking to even the mention of his name. Spicer is giving them all the technology they've dreamed of for so many years with very little effort. He must seem like a gods-given gift to the machine-dependent humans of this world.

Let them think what they want of him. I know what Spicer is: _Mine_.


	160. Saturday, June 13, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Falcon's Eye on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Unpleasant.  
Cupcakes: 2

It is true that I am shacked up with a teenager.

It’s even truer that when I accepted immortality, I was frozen as a “teenager” myself – though the terms are a little different. In my mortal days, 17 was practically middle age. The immaturity levels were… well, not _that_ different, but enough to be noticeable.

Still… teenagers. Yes. One in arrested development and the other with a staggering amount of social retardation.

I’m not sure which of us I’m talking about.

Suffice it to say, today was spent in gross juvenile hilarity.

Spicer found out that I fart.

He walked in on me while I was showering. Tile and rock walls doth an echo of grand proportions make. I knew he was in the vicinity, but it didn’t stop me because… yes, well. Anyway, when I finally rinsed the shampoo away and opened my eyes, I was treated to the sight of Jack dropped on the floor, curled up like an armadillo and laughing so hard his face had turned fuchsia from his hairline to his collarbones.

Any semblance of dignity and elegance was gone from then on.

I didn’t question Jack’s reaction to the sound. From his point of view: Chase Young: elegant, beautiful, deadly… and then _that sound_ ripped out of me. In his words, I sounded like an elephant with a digestion problem.

I was quick to point out to him that he’s no slouch when it comes to passing gas, himself. Truly, the young twit has flexibility that produces an astonishing range of noises.

At any rate, I finished my shower and toweled off, then walked sedately past him to go get dressed while he was still rolling around on the floor, laughing hysterically.

When I finally emerged from my suite, I found him in the kitchen cooking up an onslaught of food destined to give both of us such rampant gas as to make the mountain explode.

I don’t know what shocked him more: That I accepted his challenge without hesitation or that I won the farting contest.

My face and stomach hurt; we spent the day making each other laugh ourselves sick. Speaking of ill, more than one of my warriors ran away and hid. I caught a few thoughts that an overflowing litter box was preferable to the aroma the two of us were creating. I relayed the information to Spicer; it only made us laugh harder.

Something about seeing me less-than-refined did something to Jack. It turned him on, yes, but the resulting sex was different from our usual dirty romping. This was… dare I say it? Tender. Languid. Fun. There was passion, but no desperation.

I liked it!

We spent the day playing a gaseous version of Hide-and-Seek. One of us would wander off to do something; the other would search the “hider” out and, once found, let the hider know it by farting. The seeker would then have to hobble away as best he could, laughing fit to die, and wait to be found.

It was the most fun I’ve had in a while. =]


	161. Sunday, June 14, 4707

  
Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Falcon's Eye on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Irritating.  
Cupcakes: 3

  
It is a measure of Spicer's respect that he has now seen me at my worst: when I was seventeen, mortal, and still firmly on the side of Good as a Xiaolin Dragon. He has seen that... and still thinks I am "the coolest guy _ever_."

The trip back to the past (using Spicer's repaired and improved time travel device instead of any SGW) came about as a result of Jack seeming unable to let the thought of me as a "youngster" go. He told me that he couldn't get the thought out of his head of what I must have been like: young, not as serious and cranky as I am now... more relaxed and playful. I argued that I'm plenty playful and haven't been terribly cranky in a long while.

Jack: "Yeah, but... I _never_ would have pegged you as a guy that _farts_."

Me: " _Everyone_ farts, Spicer."

Jack: "Yeah, but only a small few actually have fun with it. I never would have thought you'd be one of 'em."

Me: *starting to laugh* "You should have been there back in the day, Spicer. Guan, Dashi and I nearly brought down the newly constructed Temple on more than one occasion. Damn that Dashi... I'm still convinced he created a Shen-Gong-Wu just to help him win."

And thus, Jack's mind was caught on the idea of actually _seeing_ me in my mortal youth. I was hesitant. I didn't want anyone to see me as I had been. I was so homely, so weak, so pathetic... I didn't want to see Spicer snickering at and mocking then-me.

Still, I could tell it was nagging at him, so eventually I gave my consent rather than have him go mental with the craving for a trip back in time. Plus, if I went with him, I could do damage control. The events of my becoming evil had to happen in a certain order for me to be where I am now. I don't want anything to change.

We scurried back in time; 1,757 years, to be precise. I had Spicer set the coordinates so that we didn't arrive smack in the middle of Xiaolin territory. I knew Dashi and Dojo would most likely sense our arrival, but if we stayed largely away, we would be fine.

I sent him to a time when I had been sent on a mission of patience. With my immortality, I finally learned how to be patient. When I was a snot-nosed teenaged monk, however, I was wild to get everything done at once; to experience, to _know_ , to achieve!

So, Dashi set me the task of filling twenty big barrels with water from a lake using only a thimble.

Bastard.

There was much more to the task than simply plodding down to the lake (a seven-mile hike on a _good_ day) and start scooping up water in a tiny device. I had to locate a patch of water that looked clean - as in, nothing living had recently defecated in it. I also had to check for dead bodies and poisonous debris. It took me a long time, as I recall. What's worse is that there had been a few choice spots where the water was clean and the access point wide enough that I could have simply rolled the barrels in, filled them, rolled them out and then spent a few hours snoozing in the sun or whatever have I.

Dashi, the rotten twerp, had counted on that. It took me three hours _alone_ to get the one barrel I'd rolled in out of the almost-quicksand muck it had sunk down into once full. The other "prime" access points were in similar shape.

I remember returning to the temple after five days of doing the task he'd set me; water-logged, sunburned, and so tired I couldn't have murdered him if I'd tried.

So, Spicer and I had plenty of time in which to observe my younger self.

I knew that casting a cloaking spell would keep my younger self from sensing my powerful presence. My younger me was too thoroughly pissed off and distracted to have noticed even if Spicer and I had walked past, hand in hand, singing showtunes.

Jack and I lurked in the trees nearest the lake. He pulled his goggles down over his eyes and pressed what I thought was merely ornamentation, but was actually a cleverly disguised switch. At my enquiry, he informed me that his goggles were able to perform several sight-enhancing functions, the option of becoming binoculars being one of them.

I know I've said it before, but I'll say it again: Spicer constantly surprises me these days.

At any rate, we settled down to watch "Mini Me," as Jack kept calling him.

At some point during the observation, I asked him _why_ he called my younger self that as I hadn't gotten any taller.

Jack: "No, but you definitely gained muscle mass, power, and status. Then-you is just... there. Now-you is _there_ , with an ass-kick presence no one can ignore or deny."

Have I mentioned lately that he's my favorite Consort?

When Jack saw the barrel-sinking incident, he snorted, but shook his head and said, "I'd have done the same thing. No... on second thought, I'd probably have done it so stupidly I'd have drowned. _Why_ did you go along with this?"

I simply leaned back on my hands and replied, "Because my pride had me determined to fulfill the task set to me. But I can assure you that I was seriously beginning to wonder if the Heylin forces were all _that_ bad as compared to what I was going through on the side of _Good_."

Jack had to muffle his mouth with his hands to keep his braying laughter from being heard.

We watched, and watched and watched and _watched_ , my younger self go through his laborious task. Fortunately, Jack brought cards so we played a variety of games in between him taking pictures of my younger self with a small digital camera. I wasn't that thrilled with the idea, but it seemed to mean a lot to him, so I let it slide this once.

He seemed shocked for some reason when I chose to lay down and rest my head on his lap. Maybe it was because I put my head in his lap for a reason _other_ than having sex. I don't know, and do not really care. I was pleased when he began stroking his fingers through my hair, making me shiver with pleasant tingles.

The sun set, filling the valley with warm light and turning the lake to liquid gold. The light faded, the stars came out... and eventually, the moon rose up high overhead, fat and full and brilliant.

That was the moment I had been waiting for.

I have had a memory in my mind ever since we decided to go on this trip to the past. I remember seeing something white and otherworldly whirling around in an unpatterned dance in the moonlight with a darker form dressed in black silk clothing and armor.

The white form had been naked and absolutely _glowing_ in the light.

I managed to convince Spicer that "Mini Me" was asleep and that I had a fantasy I wanted to fulfill: I wanted him to strip naked and dance with me in the moonlight. That took a bit more work, but eventually, he conceded and blushed as he disrobed. I teased him about it, considering he does completely dirty things with me almost every day that involves nudity.

Jack: *giving me a dark glare* "Would you rather I put my clothes _back on?_ 'Cause I can do that."

I teased him some more and then ran out into the moonlight, knowing he'd chase me and forget about his moment of shyness.

Once out in the moonlight, he noticed the luminosity of his skin. He worried that "Mini Me" might see, but I lied; told him my younger self was utterly exhausted and wouldn't wake up until morning. It wasn't _precisely_ a lie, though. More like an obfuscation. After all, anything after midnight is technically morning.  >=]

I soothed Jack and easily lured him into a dance. He was shocked again.

Me: *teasing* "I thought you _wanted_ to see me more playful, Spicer!"

Jack: *snickering rudely* "Yeah, sure, of course, just... _dancing?_ "

Me: "What about it?"

Jack: "Is there anything you're _not_ good at?"

Me: "Filling barrels with water using thimbles. I _still_ haven't managed that, after all this time."

He laughed, as I'd intended. Of course I completed the task, but he won't know unless he asks. I won't tell him. It isn't important. What _is_ important is seeing him naked and luminous in the moonlight, content, playful... _wanting_ me.

We danced across the grass; chased and tagged one another. The memory grew stronger in my mind and then... ah. Oh, the best part...!

Jack noticed that he was the only one _not_ wearing clothes. He slid up against me, all long limbs and white skin and sexual fervor, and began kissing me as his clever fingers teased apart the fastenings of my armor. When I didn't stop him, he brazenly began pulling my armor away, eagerly pulled at my clothes....

I let him get my torso bared, but then I simply could not _wait_ anymore. When his hot mouth fastened to one of my collarbones, Jack bit down and sucked hard and I clutched him close against me, groaning my pleasure. The next thing I was sure of, we were down on the ground in the moonlit grass. Jack spread himself out beneath me, arching and posing, knowing how much I enjoyed the sight of him so brilliantly white in the darkness. I kissed him, hard; sucked dark, hot bruises into his skin and made him beg for me. His demands got more desperate the lower my mouth went and they reached a fever pitch when, even as my mouth sucked him in, I pushed two fingers into him. I had planned ahead, of course; had brought lubricant so he would not be injured during our rutting.

I sucked him and Jack called praise of me to the night sky. Actually, he howled like a drunken, demented dragon; his voice scratchy, hoarse, and cracking on high notes with every flick and swipe of my tongue in conjunction with what my fingers were doing inside him.

Those lovely white thighs of his tightened against me and Jack _snarled_ at me to fuck him. I snarled back at him wordlessly, looming up over him in a dominating manner. Desirable he might be, but he is _my_ Consort! Mine! I will have him when _I_ choose to!

It just so happens that I chose to at that moment.

Jack made submissive sounds, _pleading_ sounds as he arched beneath me, offering me his body. I kissed him, hard, as I thrust into him; muffled his cry of delight, and my own.

I had him there in the moonlit grass. I fucked him hard, urgently. I made Spicer cry with need as I kept him hovering just on the edge of orgasm. When I could see that the position was beginning to wear on him, that missionary position was cramping his spine and hips, I withdrew. In doing so, he let out a desperate shout, worried that I would leave him that way. Idiot! I would not, could not, be that cruel to him – not when I wanted him to come screaming my name.

I flipped him over, put him on his hands and knees, and took him from behind. Spicer shouted his pleasure and pushed back eagerly even as I rode him hard and fast.

We looked like gods in the moonlight. I know; I was watching the whole performance from a different vantage point, 1,575 years ago. I remember the burn of lust in my lower belly, the terrible aching hardness of my erection, and the rasp of breath over my dry tongue as I watched the beautiful act of fornication furtively in the darkness.

I leaned down over Spicer; I sucked at his neck, bit his shoulder-blades, and made him take me in an onslaught of passion. "Made" is an ambiguous term; he was _demanding_ me, the dirty mink. He was gasping filthy, slutty demands for "more" and "harder" and "ohgods _Chase!_ " and I gave him what he wanted until, finally, he shattered apart beneath me in a glorious orgasm. He came hard, his body jerking violently as he made a sticky mess all over the grass and his own skin. His muscles clamped down hard around me, almost painfully, but it was so _good_ that I gave in to my own pleasure. We screamed and cried and writhed together in our ecstasy, making a dirty mess of ourselves, and another me made a mess of _himself_ from where he watched us.

When my breath stopped burning in my lungs and I felt I could move without disgracing myself, I lifted my head and looked directly at the patch of darkness where my younger self lurked. I smirked, knowing he could see me; knowing the shock then-me was feeling at seeing his own face, albeit changed by wickedness, staring at him while his body – my body – remained locked in post-coital bliss with another man. I bent my head and licked delicately the damp length of Jack's neck. My beautiful Consort moaned, and tightened around me while shuddering, and I responded with an instinctive thrust of my hips. I smirked again in the direction of my younger self until I knew he'd retreated in shock, horror, and unwilling fascination.

Jack was useless-weak from our sexing, so I left him puddled in the grass while I went to fetch his clothing and the time travel device. I dumped them by him as I re-dressed myself in my own clothing and then, with him cradled limply in my arms, his clothing wadded up in a ball against him, I pressed the sequence he'd taught me before we left and took us home.

He rests now in bed beside me, still worn out from our adventure. I was tempted, while he was unconscious to erase the pictures from the camera, but I left them for him. I know he won't knowingly use them to humiliate me, so I feel safe enough in letting their existence remain.

As for me, I am almost finished with my well-deserved cigar. All in all, this was a fairly decent day.


	162. Monday, June 15, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Falcon's Eye on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Unimportant in the extreme!  
Cupcakes: Lost count (v. bad)

Spicer gives me such joy!

At breakfast this morning, he handed me a wireless device and told me to look at the website the thing was tuned to. It was a cupcake blog!

"Look through it," he told me. "Look through it, and pick anything you like. I'll make it for you."

It took me perhaps thirty seconds before I found what I wanted. Something called "Egg-Free Buttermilk Chocolate Bombs." I don't care if they have eggs or not, but... _chocolate_. Yes, please and thank you!

For chocolate, I'll mind my manners. >=]

We separated after breakfast: myself to go research some more on this "Bang Baby" nonsense that Spicer's brother is a part of. While Jack has whined and pestered me to allow him to partake of the gas so he can get "cool awesome powers," I am not willing to leave such things up to chance.

Jack, I feel, is strongly attuned to the element of Metal; enough that he could manipulate it with his mind and his willpower (and not just his hands, as in _building_ metal things) if he is given enough of a jumpstart to his system. I am entertaining the thought that perhaps the gas can somehow be used as a catalyst to unlock his potential.

Later, Spicer came to find me in my research room. He brought me lunch, but he was frowning at a letter in his hand. I queried him about it.

"It's from NASA," he muttered. "They want to launch a new lunar probe and they want me to build it. They think I can create an AI Space Diggy machine that can fly up without using rocket fuel and do all the analyzing and crap while on the Moon; maybe even the other planets."

I blinked. _NASA_ had contacted Spicer? For something so monumental? I really don't care about what mortals get up to a lot of the time, but even I have not managed to reach beyond the planet's atmospheric envelope. I confess, I have always wanted to float in the limitlessness of space, high above Earth. Perhaps Spicer....

I mentioned all this to him and his red eyes brightened with pleasure as they looked at me.

"Oh, that's easy!" he said. "A suborbital experience? I can build a plane -- no, wait. You want to float. Suits, then. Like Iron Man! Only not so encompassing, 'cause I'd like to see your beautiful hair float around..."

He gave me an absent-minded kiss and wandered off, developing plans for a spacewalk excursion in a stream of conscious ramble.

I could only watch him go, bemused at his existence. So weak in physical combat (even though he's improved some, thanks to my teaching), but his _mind_...

Jack Spicer frightens me, sometimes. His genius knows no limits.

Thank all the tiny and fuzzy gods of evil that I acquired him. What would we have become if someone like Bean had gotten him? How would he have killed me?

It doesn't bear thinking about. It does not matter what we might have been to each other, but what we are now.

If my appreciation for the delicious chocolate-bomb cupcakes he made me later in the evening was perhaps a touch more... passionate... than usual, it was no doubt due to his generosity in indulging my cupcake vice.

He sleeps beside me, now; _on_ me, actually. His head is pillowed on my thigh and I cannot stop carding my fingers through his soft hair. I'm so glad he stopped gelling it with stiffening goop.

He is shivering. I will take that as my cue to put this journal away and bundle us both under the covers. It wouldn't do to have my consort become too uncomfortable and leave my bed in search of a less stingy heat source.


	163. Tuesday, June 16, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Falcon's Eye on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Boring, like nearly everything else around here.  
Cupcakes: 4 (so far)

  
Not much is occurring right now.

The people of the world are still losing their minds over Swine Flu. A quick check from Spicer to see how his brother is faring reveals that Stone is as he always is, while Negriss continues to have sex with Finnian. My mind still boggles about that, but I can't really look askance on it.

According to Spicer, his brother is planning on bringing Foley over using the Tech GTC. They will go to Hong Kong and have a naughty weekend in the most expensive penthouse suite available in the city; do the tourist thing should they manage to surface from their love-nest, that type of thing. I don't really care.

Jack has also told me that the plans for his Spicer Tech company are nearly formalized. By the end of the month, Jack will have entered the world of CEOs and business, though it will only be a formality. His talents will be kept largely to the "think tank" part of it, but he'll have the controlling interest, as well he should.

Spicer seems surprised that I am so accepting of him branching out his interests, but he needs to have a broad horizon of things to keep his mind occupied. If the only thing he had to do in his life was study Shen-Gong-Wu and be my sex toy, he would go insane with boredom within six months.

As for me, I'm feeling peckish. I'll go see if there are any more delicious Chocolate Bomb cupcakes left.


	164. Wednesday, June 17, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Falcon's Eye on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Unimportant in the extreme!  
Cupcakes: 2 (v. good)

  
Given who Spicer is, it stands to reason that his grandmother's funeral was front page news all around the world. A special evening edition hit the paper print and, of course, videos and pictures and articles are up all over the Internet.

I look quite good in modern suits.

Spicer, foolishly, neglected to inform me that his grandmother's funeral was today. I was angry that he'd planned on going without me. I caught him just as he was getting ready to leave and enquired as to why he was all dressed up. He let me know about the funeral and I had a small, contained fit.

He soothed me a bit by explaining his reason for the omission of information: in his mind, my living self is far more important than his dead grandmother. Though I can't help but agree with that reasoning, I was still annoyed at him for attempting to wander off to a tension-rife event without me. He wanted to know why I insisted on going, for which I had three reasons of my own. I actually _liked_ the pervy old bitch, even if she did teach Jack some bad habits he could have done better without. The reasons I gave him, though, were that the last time he went anywhere without me, he wound up in a three-week death coma. Also, his family is more entertaining than a cage full of monkeys on crack. I wouldn't miss this for the world!

Spicer graciously waited for me to magic a suit onto myself. I chose black, of course, but I somehow surprised him by wearing a white shirt with a gold tie striped in violet. Honestly! Did he expect me to wear the same colors as my battle uniform? For all his genius, Spicer lacks imagination outside of inventing things.

We teleported over to the Spicer mansion to get a limo there. Her funeral is being held in China, as her will specified being buried near her family, and despite her being American, they're all over here. So as to avoid uncomfortable questions and suspicions, we met up with Stone (Foley was not able to attend) and took a limo over to where the service was being held.

Jack and Francis (I refuse to call a grown man "Frankie") both kept watching me with curious, eager eyes. I think they were trying to reconcile the sight of a 1,500-year-old monster wearing modern clothing and riding around leisurely in a modern vehicle. Despite knowing that I am comfortable with computers and other modern paraphernalia, seeing me in a suit and riding in a car seemed amazing to them, the silly idiots.

However, I was quite correct in my theory that entertainment would be provided by Spicer's family interacting with him, though Jack himself set the stage with what he did to his father. First, he let the funeral planners know that he would be seated in the front row. _They_ , in an effort to keep Spicer family brawls to a minimum, had no choice but to put Martin Spicer and his wife in the very back row, thus severely limiting Martin's face-time with the cameras. Second, Jack took it upon himself to warn all the women in attendance at the funeral that fit Martin's preferred sex type. He let them know that his father had an STD and therefore, they should not have sex with Martin. It was a total lie, but all is fair in war.

Martin, true to form, attempted to "sex up" (to use Spicer's phrase) several women, only to be rebuffed firmly. Then, he found out _why_. Naturally, he suspected his youngest son of having a hand in it and cornered Jack. He caught hold of my consort, screamed obscenities and profanities, and shook him around. He would have started beating his son except that he became aware of danger.

I might have laughed at the shock and fear all over Martin's face at seeing a needle of hot fire burning only inches from his head if I hadn't been so _angry_ at him for daring to manhandle _my_ Jack!

Still, Francis was quite able to deliver the threat for both of us. "I'll core your brain like an apple if you even _try_ to hurt him, _Dad_."

Martin then looked from his eldest son to his youngest and presumably saw wrath in Jack's red-eyed gaze, because he paled significantly himself. Then, he saw _me_ looming behind Jack.

I gave him a cold smile that showed all of my very, _very_ sharp teeth and my eyes, I knew, had taken on a faint reddish glow.

Faced with three men ready and willing to hurt him badly, Martin had no choice but to turn tail and run.

The funeral went well after that. I even helped to carry her coffin out. Of course, I could have simply propped the whole thing onto one shoulder and skipped out of the temple, but that would have been inviting disaster. So, I took up position across from Stone. The two of us shared a smirk, and then escorted the coffin out.

I don't think anyone noticed I was holding the thing with just my pinky finger.

Spicer and I hung around long enough for Jack and his brother to answer a few questions from the press and, of course, to take the sympathies – some real, some fake – from the guests. Then, we all piled into the limo and took off.

How _convenient_ that a thunderstorm boiled up overhead so quickly and unleashed mayhem on the paparazzi that tried to follow us!  >:3

The three of us stayed at the mansion for a while, drinking beer and sharing stories of the mean old bitch. Then, Stone wobbled off for some alone time and I took Jack home. He was fine (his grandmother had long ago trained him to drink other people under the table), so he squirreled himself away in his lab to work on various projects.

And that is that. Her story is finished, Jack has closure, and we can all move on.

I wonder what tomorrow will bring?


	165. Thursday, June 18, 4707

  
Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Falcon's Eye on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: No wish to think of them.  
Cupcakes: 10

  
Apparently, _nothing_ is being brought today. Spicer is holed up in his laboratory, working hard on a project that I suspect is not the Tech Falcon's Eye, but the means by which he will enable me to achieve my dream of floating in space just above Earth.

The reason I cannot manage it on my own is that I must remain within a certain proximity to the dragon currents (known to the rest of the world that pays attention to such things as _ley lines_ ) and various power conduits that the planet contains. Hovering some 65 miles above sea level would remove me from power access. In the event that I do not suffocate first, I would then suffer grievous injury during freefall back to Earth.

Spicer will no doubt have a vehicle that can take us up there and back. What he needs to create is something that will allow us to continue to breathing while we're spacewalking. He says he wants to see my hair floating around my head. Gods alone know how he's going to accomplish that and yet leave my various orifices covered.

I'm becoming antsy with anticipation. If anyone can give me this gift, it is Spicer. I am anxious to see this dream fulfilled!


	166. Friday, June 19, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Falcon's Eye on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Likely frolicking somewhere.  
Cupcakes: 1 (v. good)

Jack is still hard at work on the sub-orbital suit project. I am so anxious to see this completed that I have ordered Diol, Omi, and the others to not pester him until it is done.

Stone called in at some point, wanting to know if Jack could be spared to go with him to collect Foley for that naughty weekend the two Americans have been planning. He didn’t necessarily want Jack to _stay_ with them; only that he thought his baby brother could do with some fresh air and a change of country, if even for a few minutes.

I declined on Spicer’s behalf, but it was really more for m—


	167. Sunday, June 21, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Falcon's Eye on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Self-righteous irritants, as usual.  
Cupcakes: 12

Honestly. Some people’s relatives!

Friday, my journaling was interrupted by a frantic call from Stone for help. It seems that when Stone went to collect his lover, he was seen/overheard by a one-time comrade named Aqua Maria. She is so named because her birth name is Maria, and when she was gassed with the mutagen, she was transformed into living water.

Water is _not_ my element. I _can_ manipulate it, but it takes effort. I should have thought to call upon Omi sooner than I did, but my pride slowed that realization.

So, it seemed that Aqua Maria traversed the ocean (What sights did she see, passing so harmlessly through territory infested with whales and sharks and all manner of things that can so easily harm a human, or even myself?) to arrive in Hong Kong. It wasn’t long until she found Stone, as she’d overheard him bragging to his lover about acquiring the most expensive penthouse suite in the city for them.

From then on, it was a mess.

It seems that most of the Bang Babies in Dakota had been nullified by a cure. A Bang Baby named Ebon (a living shadow) stole some and changed himself and Hotstreak _back_ into their powered forms, and during the fracas, Static and Gear (Foley) received a reviving dose themselves. Foley, being a super-genius, managed to make more of it; a personal supply in case he and his fellow crime fighter (How does his relationship with Stone function, then?) are unwillingly depowered again.

Ebon, it seems, found the supply, stole it for himself, and began rounding up all his old cronies. With _most_ of the heroes depowered, he figured that if he and his cohorts were once again powered up, the city would be helpless. Obviously, he doesn’t think of the bigger picture, but whatever.

He returned Aqua Maria to her water form against her will. Maria figured that she would kill two birds with one Stone, so to speak. She does not _want_ to be living water and decided that Stone, having once screwed up a possible cure for her and so owed her a do-over, would get her in contact with Jack who, being a genius even smarter than Gear, would fix her. Also, she seems to have the hots – no pun intended – for Stone and has decided he should be with her, never minding the fact that the boy is queer as a three-eyed fish.

Stone blew up the penthouse suite trying to get away from her.

Their fight was steamy, naturally. Fire met water when fire wasn’t too busy trying to flee like a coward.

Foley tried to talk Aqua Maria down and she just about drowned him in return. That’s when Stone called on me and Spicer. We got there just as Static arrived, as did Ebon and another Bang Baby named Talon.

Cue a fight between all of us.

I thought my head was going to explode when the bird-woman, Talon, unleashed her sonic scream at me at near point-blank range. Up until then, she was simply an agile orange-colored woman with clawed feet and hands, and wings made by flight feathers growing from the line of her arms. She was easy to catch, which was what she had been waiting for, apparently.

Only the quick action of Static, who lassoed me with a rope of energy and yanked me away, saved me. As it was, I was down on the street and puking from the pain of that attack.

I heard a raging scream that compounded the problem coming from directly above me. I looked up, and there was Spicer. He stood over me, covering me with his own body while he shot at Talon with his laser blaster, utterly furious with the godsdamned woman.

Gods, he was beautiful. Enraged, on the attack, with the need to do murder burning in his crimson eyes… Ah, Jack. My Jack.

The fight between all of us was fierce. Ebon tried to shadow-teleport Jack for attacking his woman (I wonder what their children would look like?), only to be shot back by both Hotstreak and Static. Aqua Maria wanted a piece of _everyone_ and then got incapacitated by Gear, who hit her with an energy ball that electrocuted her into unconsciousness, but only briefly.

So, just as a stalemate is reached and about six blocks of Hong Kong had been damaged, who else should come “riding to the rescue” but the monks!

Jack made me laugh. He rolled his eyes when he first heard Pedrosa’s voice bellowing an order down from the sky. I relayed to everyone what he’d said, since none of them could hear. He’d told us all to “Stop it.”

Gah. And I used to fuck that?

Back to the funny part. Jack growled, “Fuckin’ _monks!_ ” and shot three quick bursts from his laser gun into the air. Dojo dodged the first two and then flew smack into third one, just as Jack had calculated he would.

The dragon hit the ground hard enough to shatter windows that hadn’t yet been damaged and crumpled a few cars. The monks were bruised, but largely undamaged due to Pedrosa’s quick Wind action.

And so, naturally, the fight was on again.

Ebon and Talon sided briefly with the monks until the monks realized that they were villains, and then it was a free-for-all.

Aqua Maria woke up and smothered Stone until he lost consciousness, and then tried to steal him away, only to be shocked off of him by Static. Foley, so enraged with her attempt, actually tried to _punch_ her. Her face simply reformed, but the shock on both their faces – that he’d actually tried to physically injure her because he’d _wanted_ to – was hysterical.

We wrecked some more of the city before Foley and Static decided to lure us all out into the country. The running-hiding-fighting-hunting-fighting-r

unning took another day and Guan joined us!

Finally, I thought to sneak back to the palace and snag Omi. He kept Aqua Maria occupied and under control. Static, Hotstreak, and Tohomiko burned light bright enough to cripple Ebon, and Pedrosa beat Talon out of the air and _I_ beat her into unconsciousness. I also clawed her throat badly enough to damage her vocal chords. She won’t be shrieking _anyone’s_ head off anytime soon.

Then, of course, the city had to be repaired. I worked a spell, bolstered by everyone who had energy to spare, that made the inhabitants remember their day a little differently. In addition to that, the damage to the city was repaired by magic.

Then, I passed out.

I woke up a few hours ago. While I was bathing, Jack let me know that everyone thanked me for being such a good sport and fixing everything up nice and neat, leaving the others with the only task of getting Ebon, Talon, and Aqua Maria back to Dakota. That annoyed and nauseated me so badly that Jack decided to make it “all better” and gave me a lewd, perfectly filthy blowjob.

Such sexual decadence is almost worth the irritation that brought it about; almost.

While I relaxed in the bath, he went to fix me something to eat and brought it to me there. My consort basically pampered me; he fed me so I wouldn’t have to move my arms from the hot water. He scrubbed my back, he massaged my shoulders and my head, and then treated me to a leisurely hand-job while whispering delightful sexual fantasies quietly in my ear.

Spicer has lavished me with much attention, but I asked him how the suit was coming along. He said it’s been on hold ever since his brother called, and I made him go back to it. I want to float in space, damn it! Lord of all I survey!

I am feeling better, though. Perhaps, in a little while, I’ll interrupt him long enough to return the sexual favor he’s been visiting on me most of the afternoon. I have a few fantasies of my own, such as bending Jack over a table and licking him into readiness, and then…

Oh, who am I kidding? “Later?” Try _now_.  >=]


	168. Monday, June 22, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Falcon's Eye on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Who?  
Cupcakes: 0

  
I have... erred.

In my handling of Spicer, I have erred.

I accosted him in his lab; I gave him pleasure as he had given it to me... and completely failed to take into account that even though he did not expend _as much_ energy as I had, he had still fought a running battle for roughly two days.

Instead of letting him get as much rest as he needed, I sent him to work on the space-walk suit and then seduced him into having hot, passionate sex.

It is no surprise that, upon completion, he collapsed like a house of cards hit by a baseball bat. Jack passed out from sheer exhaustion, and I have only myself to blame.

He is too giving to me; too ready to let me take everything from him, but gods help me, I refuse to let him change that.

He sleeps in bed beside me, now. His skin is gray with exhaustion, his eyes ringed with dark bruising from the need for rest.

Tomorrow, I will pamper him.

My poor, beautiful boy....


	169. Tuesday, June 23, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Falcon's Eye on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: No, really, who?  
Cupcakes: 5

  
Spicer, I have learned, is a somniloquist. He talks in his sleep, providing he is exhausted enough that he loses all control over himself (and is not in a death coma).

And not just a somniloquist, but he will move around, as well. Not with great dexterity, but enough to _pick up a blanket with his toes_.

Once he'd done so, he proclaimed himself conqueror of the world and flopped back into deep sleep.

He has also let me know that he is Dune-Jack; he controls the Spice, he controls the Universe – and that is why his last name is Spicer.

Furthermore, his plans for the Death Star have been altered so that _Omi_ -Wan Kenobi can't "fuck things up fucking little fucking yellow cheeseball head ghost!" and when the Epic Battle of Epic: Pirates vs. Ninjas Death Tournament is set to begin because he has one million Ike and Mike's riding on the Pirates because he "can't fucking _stand_ ninjas fucking Tubbimura KILL IT WITH FIRE!"

Spicer has a trash-mouth on him that is stuck on endless repeat.

That being said, I'm seriously thinking that I ought to have one of his robots record this for me just in case.

I wonder if he'll be truly awake anytime soon. He's bound to be hungry. What should I fix a ravenous eighteen-year-old that he can gulp down in a hurry?

Ah, of course. What else? Macaroni and Cheese!


	170. Wednesday, June 24, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Falcon's Eye on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Truly, _who_?  
Cupcakes: 1

  
Floating in space is every bit as serene as I thought it would be.

.....Once I calmed my nerves away from the realization that space is _immense, vast, and easy to get lost in forever_.

The fright took me by surprise. Rationally, I knew I was fine. Spicer – once he'd woken up for good – had inhaled food and then rushed to finish the space-walk suit and he would never willingly let anything bad happen to me.

The suit is made of a thin polymer, with woven-in mechanisms that I do not understand how they function, but they do. I was warm and comfortable floating around in space. The face mask is something like a scuba-diver's full face mask. It seals to my skin around my face and there are ear plugs, plus more fabric to seal over my ears. My hair is left floating freely. The face mask, so clear as to seem non-existent, magnifies what I'm looking at slightly. Over the radio, which the ear plugs are part of, Jack told me to say a few commands, such as "sun visor" and "de-fogger." Once I tried those, the face screen darkened to protect my eyes from the glare of the sun or wicked away the vapor from my breath.

Also, the two-seater personal jet (roughly equivalent to the size of an American F-18) that Spicer used to drive us up into the sub-orbital envelope was parked nearby and would respond at a remote command from him. No matter which way we went, we would have been swiftly and safely retrieved.

And yet... the vastness of space behind me and the Earth spread out very far below me caused me to clench all over in fear.

Jack, to my surprise, was absolutely fine. In fact, he seemed to sense that I was _not_ doing as well and stuck close to me, talking to me about random things going on in his life apart from me. Having him in view, as well as hearing his voice and occasionally feeling his hand stroking over my hair, helped me tremendously.

Once I relaxed, I felt... free. Gods, I felt free. I weighed nothing, I was unfettered, and the entire world was spread out below me. Jack even mentioned that it was lucky for the idiots below that they didn't know I was up there. Had they known, they'd have panicked, because nothing and no one is safe from an orbital attack.

The thought of burning countries off the Earth from on high made me laugh.

I hope to go up again tomorrow, and as many times as I can. To see Earth slowly revolving past, clean, without too many signs of industrialization marring its once pristine surface... I can easily get used to this.


	171. Thursday, June 25, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Falcon's Eye on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Bah.  
Cupcakes: Enough.

  
What started off as a fantastic day – morning sex, meditation, delicious breakfast, seeing Jack trounce Omi during training for once, more sex, then floating in space for a few hours – came crashing down almost immediately we got home from a space walk.

I went down to Spicer's lab to discuss making suits for my warriors (specifically, I want Diol to join me 'upstairs', as Spicer calls it) when I heard grief-stricken howling coming from the area Jack had claimed as his domain.

I ran into the lab to find him on his knees in front of his computer command console, sobbing as if his heart was broken. I went to my knees; grabbed him and held him against me in a protective response that shocked me to my core when I realized later what I'd done.

Me: Spicer! _Jack!_ What is it? What's wrong?

I stroked his hair and his back soothingly, thinking that his grief for his grandmother had caught up with him or, worse yet, something had happened to his brother.

Spicer: M... M... _MICHAEL_.

Me: ....Michael who?

Jack then flailed an arm up at the screen behind him. I looked up, watched for a few minutes, and realized there was a news broadcast on.

Apparently, the singer/dancer known as Michael Jackson has died at the age of 50.

Spicer: *sobbing as if he's dying* He's gone! He's gone! Oh, _GOD!_

Absolutely disgusted, I pushed Spicer away, got up, and walked out.

A few hours ago, he came to me and cuddled up to me, mollifying my bad mood by telling me – and then _showing_ me – just what he thought about me coming to his aid like that without hesitation.

I'm hoping we can go upstairs again tomorrow. I have discovered that one of my favorite scenic views _ever_ is the sight of Spicer dressed in that skin-tight suit, his long-ish red hair floating around him as he moves with a grace that he doesn't quite possess when down on terra firma.

And he _wonders_ why I'm usually eager to do something sexual to him as soon as we're back on land again!

Silly boy.


	172. Friday, June 26, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Falcon's Eye on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Can eat my intergalactic dust.  
Cupcakes: 13

Fortunately, Spicer's grief over that Jackson person has not impeded _my_ plans any.

As it is, today went better than I could ever have hoped it would.

Spicer did, in fact, make a suit for Diol (as well as a few more for other warriors, should I wish them to go upstairs). I was helping Diol get into his suit when Spicer walked up to me, dressed and ready for a space excursion. I admired him openly and told him how arousingly sexy he is dressed like that, and how I always look forward to returning to Earth so I can do lascivious things to him.

That's when he let me know that he purposefully designed our suits to allow for _interesting_ extra-curricular activities on our space walks.  >=]

I quickly informed Diol of the change in plans; that he would be staying behind today. I don't think he minded too awfully much, though I had to wonder at the sense of resentment I felt from him. I know I spend a lot of time with Spicer lately, but neither do I ignore Diol, or any of the rest of my warriors.

Well... perhaps Omi. His every attempt to preach at me whenever we're around each other for longer than ten minutes is enough to drive me insane.

Still, today was excellent.

I floated for a while, knowing that Jack was eager for sex. I let the anticipation build and then, when I heard a small sigh of frustration, I flicked my feet to propel me over to him.

It was slow; so agonizingly slow, as I rutted between his legs. We could not disrobe, but I fit myself against him and rubbed us together slowly, so we wouldn't wobble out of orbit. Every action has a reaction in space, after all. A particularly eager thrust could have us coming _and_ going if we were to fall back to Earth during sex.

Slow, slow... every stroke a blessing and a curse. Jack growled and tried to move us faster, but I held him still; made him experience the moment to the very end.

His scream of pleasure when he finally came hurt my ears, but it was worth it.

We floated for a while and watched a volcano erupt out of the sea somewhere off the coast of Greece. Then, I made Jack hold onto the jet while I rutted against him from behind. I had my pleasure and then flipped him over and rubbed his erection with my hand hard and fast until he came hard, shuddering in my arms.

He fell asleep, and I sat on the back of the jet, holding him and watching the Earth revolve past us while he napped.

When he woke up, he drove us home. On the floor of the hangar, the instant we were both down from the jet, he tackled me to the floor. We stripped off as much as we needed to and I was laughing, utterly delighted in his show of force.

The laughing stopped when he slicked me with his mouth, and then roughly sat down on my cock. I know it must have pained him a little, but he didn't seem to _care_. His face was a-glow with ecstasy as he worked himself on my erection and I could do nothing but give in to my urge to make him scream my name.

We have spent the last few hours making a thorough mess of ourselves. He's asleep in his own room at the moment, claiming that if he falls asleep anywhere near me then he's just going to wear himself out again the instant he wakes up.

Foolish consort; we both know you will come seeking me once you feel how much I still want sex.

I sit now in my throne, waiting for him, for I do so love throne sex.

Ah! There he is. He's moving.... I don't believe it. He's _sleep-walking_. Utterly naked, Jack Spicer is walking toward me in his sleep. He's muttering something about how he is _not_ too cold; he will _never_ be too cold to put _that_ on, so stop trying to talk him into it. I wonder...?

I'm not sure. All I know is he mentioned stockings and now I have the most bizarre urge to see him in sheer black stockings all the way up to those sleek white thighs of his. I have never particularly found men-in-women's-clothing attractive but I think on _him_ , with all that white skin—

Oh. Oh, is there a label for this? He's on his knees, between my feet. His mouth is so wet, so _hot_ , and that _tongue_ of his...!

Filthy, naughty Jack Spicer. My beautiful, well-trained consort. Oh, _gods_ , yes, lick _all_ the way down...!

Label found: somnambullatio!


	173. Saturday, June 27, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Falcon's Eye on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Does _anyone_ in this wide world truly care?  
Cupcakes: 6

I went upstairs with Diol today. Jack stayed behind to take care of his own business concerns and to work on the Tech Falcon's Eye.

He showed me the remote controls built into the wrist cuffs on my suit and that all I needed to do was press a few buttons and the jet would do all the work of flying us up and flying us back.

It was... exhilarating. I was not actually flying the vehicle, but it felt for a moment like I was. Diol was growling the entire way. If he'd not been covered, his fur would have been ridged out in every direction!

I floated around space, orbiting the Earth and sharing the majestic view with Diol for several hours. There was a moment of hilarity for me when we saw a satellite go past us and Diol instinctively went into "pounce position," which set him spinning head over tail.

I _had_ worried about the satellites when Jack first took me upstairs, but he said he'd already thought of that. His jet was covered with the same polymer the suits are made of, which somehow renders us invisible to the mortals' technology. I don't know how and I don't care enough to ask. All I need to know is that some laboratory somewhere won't be hunting us down to dissect us.

Speaking of Spicer, I need to ask him _when_ he's doing the press conference for his new company – he is Jack Spicer, the world's most brilliant darling at the moment; of course there will be press coverage! – so that I will have ample time to go with him.

Like as not, there will probably be an assassin or three in the crowd. Jack has stepped on quite a few toes in his headlong rush into fame and fortune.


	174. Sunday, June 28, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Falcon's Eye on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Not _nearly_ as interesting as Spicer, now.  
Cupcakes: 9

Only Spicer can call a press conference on a Sunday.

Well... not true. I am a Heylin lord. I'm quite certain I could get kings and queens serving me on bended knee, the head of a unicorn, _and_ a press conference if I wanted one.

However, Spicer got his press conference to announce the opening of Spicer Tech. His brother is the vice president of the company and will largely handle the business contracts and such things while Jack remains in scientist mode.

I must work on his timing, however. When I asked him when the press conference was at breakfast today, he gave me a sheepish look and said: "Uhhhhh... in about six hours."

Why does he not realize that I refuse to let him go to any public event without me? As it is, it's a good thing I _did_ go.

Someone tried to kill him during the question and answer section.

Basically, the reporters tried to coax some sign of even a false hint of human concern out of Jack. "Will you be creating new jobs for the Chinese people?"

Ha! My Jack gave them a hard-to-argue with _no_.

And because of that, some fool tried to shoot him in the face.

Spicer's reflexes are getting better. He saw the attack begin at the same time I did. Even as I was in motion, Jack used his matter-shifter to turn himself into an invulnerable material. He lied about it, claiming it to be a force field, which has resulted in every nerd, geek, and something in between on the planet sending him what amounts to love letters and applications for employment.

Naturally, I trounced the attacker and left him in a broken pile for the police to take care of while Jack and Foley managed to talk Stone out of frying the man alive right there on live international television.

In the end, Foley said that they were _through_ if Stone murdered someone and was prepared to walk off then and there. Jack grumbled later to me about how there has to be a white sheep in every family, which made me laugh.

Hmmmm. I'm still in a fairly good mood. I feel... frisky; like I need a few more laughs.

Where is that glitter-infested lubricant and, more importantly, where is my consort?


	175. Monday, June 29, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Falcon's Eye on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: GRAH.  
Cupcakes: 17 (v. bad, but see if I care!)

  
I have never been so insulted in my _life_.

A Xiaolin monk tried to form a connection of resemblance between me and a cold, dead, _SPARKLING_ pedophilic stalker of a vampire!

Just because I happened to be shining in the sunlight because of the glitter-lube used last night and just because I happen to be _much_ older than Spicer---

AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

Gods damn that flat-chested slut to the seven standard hells!

I need to go murder somethi— ****

 **Edited to Add:**

Well, now. This is a surprise.

It seems that Stone is moving out of the Spicer mansion. He is taking a penthouse apartment in Hong Kong where the Spicer Tech building is located. Because of that, Finnian and Negriss are moving in _here_.

It's strange to have those two around again. I thought Finnian was Jack's pet, but then Jack was here more often than not and Finnian seemed to vanish from Jack's awareness.

I wonder what will happen now?


	176. Tuesday, June 30, 4707

  
Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Falcon's Eye on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Hmm? Oh, them. Don't care.  
Cupcakes: 19

I'm too sleepy to address much in this journal tonight, except this: I need to make Spicer saccharinely joyful more often if a magnificent feast followed by a magnificent blowjob is the result.

Spicer has had his reunion with Finnian. The two of them were positively revolting as they snuggled and snuzzled together. Negriss and I are in accord about that, and about the fact that this is _my_ residence and _I_ am the top reptile around here. Any nonsense out of him and I will make his death last for _years_.

Oh, my, but Jack certainly knows how to say "Thank You" even if all I did was say yes to the animals moving in.

 **Edited to Add:**

I'm going to have to build a terrarium section or something into the palace.

Anything that is just for Finnian and Negriss to cohabit. Negriss, being a horny little snake, is in turn making _me_ horny with the rutting pheromones he's producing.

I'm _chafed_ down there!

In other news: June _began_ with a French airline jet crash into the ocean that killed all 228 people on board. June _ended_ with a Yemen plane crash into the ocean, and killed all but one of 153 people on board; a 12-year-old girl was the lone survivor. Is June Swat-A-Plane-Into-the-Ocean Month? Note to self: Never fly during June, especially over water.

I had thought perhaps to have Jack teach me how to fly his jet, but if June has such an attitude against planes, I suppose I should count it as lucky that we made it upstairs and back at all.

Oh, damnation. The thought of Jack flying is arousing me! The way he so confidently sits in the pilot's seat, his long white fingers curled commandingly around the flight stick... oh... _Jack_....


	177. Wednesday, July 1, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: SHOULD FUCK OFF.  
Cupcakes: 0

  
I am so angry that I feel as if I may burst into flame, or possibly explode from sheer wrath.

That pestilent legume, Hannibal Roy Bean, invaded my home today.

Even _worse_ than that: he tried to take Jack from me.

 _**AGAIN.** _

First, he tried coaxing my consort into leaving him, and then went straight for intimidation tactics. He threatened Stone, he threatened Finnian, he threatened Spicer's parents (we both snorted and smirked at that one), and then he threatened to do sexually depraved things to Jack.

I will _MURDER_ that abomination if it's the last thing I ever do.

I got a little... testy... about it. I went "Cavedragon," as Jack put it; dragged him to my "cave" (ironic, since we're living inside a hollowed out mountain) where I proceeded to claim him – not sexually, though I _will_ make that claim when I've calmed down a bit – by pinning him to my bed with my body. I rubbed my scent into him and informed him that he had best not be planning on leaving me anytime soon. I was so worked up about it that any time Spicer shifted or wriggled as if he were trying to get out from under me and get away, I _growled_ like a wild animal. Which, I suppose, I was.

I shan't be going upstairs any time soon; not with Bean sneaking around, trying to take what doesn't belong to him.

Besides which, there are things to attend to down here that I have been ignoring in favor of playing on the edge of the stratosphere. The Uyghurs are sending a fresh batch of their young people to the work program on the eastern edge of China. They live on the western border of my land. To pass through safely, they must pay me a tithe. I need to see that transaction settled so they can pass through and be gone. Too, there are the tell-tale signs of power gathering with that particular buzz that Shen-Gong-Wu have. Another one shall be going active, soon.

Speaking of Shen-Gong-Wu, Jack will start examining the Lotus Twister now that he's finished with the Falcon's Eye. He was already making noises of teaming up with Katnappé again for this one; something about creating a flexibility gene that will be marketed as a sex toy somehow.

I'm glad to know that young man understands what's important.

Speaking of which, since I'm so conveniently ensconced atop him...


	178. Thursday, July 2, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Fake-Good as usual, I'm certain.  
Cupcakes: 3

  
I have continued to stay close to home.

Spicer has outlined his plans for the Lotus Twister. They are long-term, big picture, and rather diabolically clever! He'll make everyone flexible, longer-lasting, and able to have incredibly interesting sex. The planet will overload on people... and by then, he'll have created a fleet of ships for space exploration and technology for planetary colonization and cultivation. He's already sent out probes of his own to test planet surfaces. He figures that if _they_ work, he'll make a slightly downgraded version for NASA. By the time the probes send back the data, it's analyzed, and everything is ready to go, he'll have the ships completed and we'll quickly have most of the planet to ourselves.

In the meanti—

Oh, my... what's this? Spicer is approaching me carrying the Lotus Twister and wearing absolutely nothing but a filthy grin.

I do believe my dance card is filled this evening! >=]


	179. Friday, July 3, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Useless to me, and therefore unimportant.  
Cupcakes: 6

  
I had to have an argument with Spicer about working with Katnappé again.

I promised the mangy feline femme fatale that if the two super-geniuses had occasion to work together again, I would not allow Spicer to put a shock-collar on her again. Jack argued quite vociferously for being allowed to collar her again. I maintained that as he is my minion, he will not, since I gave my word. What he does reflects on me. Some day he'll realize this.

In the meantime, I finally won the argument and then I did naughty things with him. So, in essence, it was a win-win scenario. >=]


	180. Saturday, July 4, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: *eyeroll*  
Cupcakes: 21 (bad, but in light of the circumstances...)

  
How did Spicer know?

How did he _know_ that I love to watch fireworks?

I had thought he'd planned to call Katnappé in to work on the Lotus Twister. Instead, he put a blindfold over my eyes and filled my mouth and nose with the taste and scent of him to keep me as "blind" as possible. He led me outside and from there, I watched a fantastic show of fireworks.

He offered to let me fire some up into the air with a modified rocket launcher, but I declined. I would rather watch them explode in glorious color.

It was beautiful. In between watching fireworks (he _still_ refuses to tell me _how_ he made the two of us appear in the sky; me in my dragon form draped atop him!), he hand-fed me delightful tidbits and whispered naughty things in my ear while stroking my ego - among other things.  >:3

What a wonderful evening. Jack pleases me so much.


	181. Sunday, July 5, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Too busy to bother with them.  
Cupcakes: 2

  
I am not fit company right now.

Not that I ever am; I do not _do_ "company." If I did, I would not spend the majority of my time inside a mountain well away from most human populations – and, apparently, not far enough away from some.

The Uyghurs have run into trouble with the Han Chinese, as usual. Only, this time, there have been vicious riots and people are getting killed. I received a messenger a little while ago.

Can you credit it? Those uppity little desert-dwellers are demanding that since they pay a tithe to me, I should be fighting their battles for them.

I reminded the messenger that the deal we have is that they pay me for safe passage through my land. I protect them from sandstorms, monsters, animals, and myself. If they want me to solve their problems with the Han… ha! Not likely. I am from the Northern and Southern Dynasties time, but my lineage is Han. Naturally, the Uyghurs do not know this and I am not inclined to tell them, as I do not need the lot of the mangy little beasts camping out around my mountain, declaring war on me and bringing media attention on my home and myself.

I sent the messenger away with the information of how much it would cost them to have me fight their battle for them. I anticipate troubles.

Gods, these people give me a headache. I think I shall take an herbal potion and a nap to rid myself of it. I want to spend time with Jack later and we won't have a good time if I'm incapacitated.


	182. Monday, July 6, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Might actually be better company than the Uyghurs.  
Cupcakes: 10

Spicer is, as yet, unaware of the situation with the Uyghurs. He has enough to worry about with his company starting up and the fact that Katnappé has applied to work for him.

Yes, I was shocked – especially after he told me of what she wore when she arrived to help him with the Lotus Twister. Sensible clothing, hiding her ears... and utterly respectful all the while!

Still, I do not see the need to tell him about the Uyghurs. It would only irritate him as he doesn’t know who they are and thus wouldn’t care. They are issuing ultimatums of revoking tithes with me. Fine. Let them. We'll see how well they fare against the Land of Nowhere and its denizens without my protection.


	183. Tuesday, July 7, 4707

  
Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Do I even need to say it? I. Don't. Care.  
Cupcakes: 12

  
This is an unexpected turn of events.

Spicer noticed my foul mood. He asked me what was wrong, genuinely interested - not just because of what might happen to him, but because it was _me_.

I told him what was going on with the Uyghurs. He listened, nodded, and set about spoiling me out of my bad mood. He's baked me cupcakes, he's fixed me several delicacies, and he's ready and willing to be ordered around however I want him, especially for sex.

What a pleasure Jack Spicer is to me!


	184. Wednesday, July 8, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: May soon prove troublesome...  
Cupcakes: 3

  
I had unexpected company today. Negriss spent the day with me.

Finnian went to Jack and has been, no doubt, nestled in that thick, ridiculously bright red hair. As pretty as it is against Spicer's white skin, it's still outrageous that such a color is natural on an albino.

Something will happen tomorrow: an earthquake. Not anywhere near us, but somewhere in China. Negriss has informed me of it. Considering that I have had strong indications myself of a Shen-Gong-Wu rising to activity, I am certain both will happen in the same vicinity.

Which means that I want to get in, get the 'Wu, and get out _before_ Bailey gets to it. Being tied to the element of Earth, he will be in a _foul_ temper already. Seeing us get away with the 'Wu is bound to exacerbate his temper.

I'll send Diol to Spicer with a message to get plenty of rest and be ready to go at all times. The very instant that thing goes off, I want to get to it.

Now, to convince a certain Naga that he has no business nesting in my hair no matter how lush, attractive, and warm it is.


	185. Thursday, July 9, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Is that what they're calling them, these day?  
Cupcakes: 2

  
The 'quake was in Yunnan Province; that lush, tropical garden where the "Zhí wù zài shén de zhi chí xià zeng cháng" SGW was located. Such a ridiculous name for what is essentially a watering can full of magical Miracle-Gro. I assured Spicer that most people call it what he has taken to calling it: "The Plant 'Wu Thingy."

The former Grand Master Dragon Zhianbou was a gardener with delusions of grandeur, which I told to Jack. Said former Grand Master Dragon, a sour-looking lion in my collection, took exception to that. Jack was quite amused. >=]

Still, thanks to forewarning, Spicer and I arrived in enough time to grab the 'Wu and vanish. The _look_ Bailey gave us as we departed...! If it weren't simply his version of PMS, I'd think he has what it takes to be truly Heylin.

The earthquake he unleashed in his temper tantrum was only 5.7 on the Richter scale, but it caused a great deal of damage, injured several hundred people, and even killed one person. Naturally, the big oaf is almost senseless with grief. Guan felt the need to inform me that he would not be punishing Bailey, as the guilt was doing a fantastic job all by itself. I told him he's too easy on his students. He told me to mind my own business. I told him to grow some hair so it wouldn't be so easy to admire my own reflection on his bald noggin. He told me where I could shove my Lao Máng Lóng.

Ahhhhhh; nothing like winding up a monk to relax a monster!

Hmmmm. Diol just came to me with information. It seems Omi is agitating Jack to come to me on Omi's behalf and petition for Omi to be allowed to go to the Temple to comfort Bailey.

Absolutely not. Once he's in the clutches of those monks, it would take an all-out war to get him back from them.

I suppose I could bring Bailey here to visit, but again... he might try to make off with Omi and, for certain, those self-absorbed creatures that call themselves monks would follow along and then the war would take place in my palace again. I'm in no mood for it.

I will allow Omi to write a letter to Bailey. Hopefully, that won't be like waving a flag at a bull.


	186. Friday, July 10, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Weepy, apparently!  
Cupcakes: 7

  
Oh, I've done Jack wrong today.

I sent _him_ to send Omi's letter to Bailey.

I watched on the Eye Spy Orb to ensure his safety. Naturally, Pedrosa and Tohomiko attacked the instant he arrived, but he held his own well enough to get the letter delivered. Then, Bailey held him captive and sobbed on him for a while.

He returned... and Omi wrapped his furry self around one of Jack's legs and yodeled his happiness. That was rather an impressive kick he used to fling Omi off of him and into a wall.

He then came to me, demanding to know why I hadn't saved him from all of that horrible emotional torture, but I was laughing too hard to even form a reply. >=]

In any case, Spicer has been deafening himself with that heavy metal music he favors and blowing things up however he can. I really shouldn't be half so amused by his behavior, or what he endured, especially as he was so decent to me about my recent troubles with the Uyghurs.

Perhaps... it is time to coddle him for a change?


	187. Saturday, July 11, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Irrelevant.  
Cupcakes: 2 (busy)

  
I made up my callous behavior to Jack with a full day of pampering.

I woke him up with a full-body massage. I used heated oil to ease the stroke of my hands over his delicate skin and turned him into a purring, limp puddle of happiness - until certain parts of him became _very_ happy.

Naturally, I gave him what he was asking for. >:3

After we had a leisurely bath and breakfast, I took him out in the world. I took him to Hong Kong and Paris and other cities to let him do some shopping. I even treated! I helped him choose new clothing. Now that he's a businessman, he ought to look like a high-end ruffian youth. He modeled a few outfits for me. Those I merely liked, I nodded to.

Those I _really_ liked... well. I can now add "dressing room sex" to the list of places I have had adventurous sex in - and with a beautiful young man such as Jack!  >=]

I treated him to a fine lunch while out and about with him. We had food in a restaurant that was so expensive that it was obscene. We walked about some more, purchasing frivolous things, and then I took him home for Movie Night. It took some doing, but I discovered his favorite movies and we went through about eight of them; consumed them with popcorn and beer.

Jack drank a great deal of beer, but showed few signs of drunkenness. When pressed, he explained that his parents' inattention and free access to the liquor cabinet resulted in him acquiring a strong tolerance for alcohol, though he has no urge to drink constantly. He is not an alcoholic; he can simply drink like a fish.

I mentioned that his parents did not deserve the title of parents - that they should have done a better job of being parents, should have paid more attention to him.

He countered with the fact that he is actually grateful they didn't give him more attention. If he'd grown up normal and happy, he'd never have become what he is today but, more importantly, would never have met me.

What else could I do but kiss him? What else, but pull him against me, pull him under me, and give him _my_ attention?

We spent hours giving each other attention and now, we're pleasantly exhausted. He is already passed out asleep beside me.

I shall count myself successful in having coaxed him out of his sulk. >=]


	188. Sunday, July 12, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Worth less than a nanosecond of my attention.  
Cupcakes: 7

  
Spicer unnerved me today. He wired the entire courtyard for sound, upped the volume, and proceeded to "Thriller" his way up one wall and down the other - almost literally!

To make matters worse: he dragged my warriors into it!

Although, I think it's the most fun Diol has had in ages, come to think of it.

Apparently, that pop singer's memorial service - a loud and flashy affair full of entertainment performers and exploitation of children - was on the 7th. That was the day that Jack was comforting me out of my bad mood regarding the Uyghurs. So, he put me first (rightly so) but he _did_ record the spectacle for later viewing. With one thing and another, he finally got around to watching it.

I was in my garden, meditating, when the most _astonishing_ shock wave of sound startled me back to awareness. I went to the courtyard and found the place wired from top to bottom and "Thriller" playing while Jack, my warriors, and his robots performed the dance routine.

I have to admit... they weren't half-bad. Jack and his robots clearly knew what they were doing while my warriors did the best they could. Still, they were rather good at it.

....Even so, never want to see that happening in my palace again.


	189. Monday, July 13, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Amusing, for once!  
Cupcakes: 9

  
My sides ache from laughing so much, but it's worth it.

I had a long, frustrating meeting with the Uyghurs. However, Jack not only made me cupcakes, he also picked my brain on the sly. Devious little albino!

Turns out he was bored and needed ideas for stressing out the monks. When he got home, he dragged me to the Eye Spy Orb and had me tune in on Guan's temple.

Bailey was trapped in his room, unable to bring himself to use his powers to free himself. Nobody else was coming to his rescue because Jack had taken pictures of Pedrosa and Tohomiko having sex; lackluster, rather passionless sex, but whatever.

He taped those pictures up all over the Temple for Guan and the other monks to find.

They did. >:3

Bailey remained trapped in his room for _hours_ because the rest of the monks were too busy chastising Pedrosa and Tohomiko!

As I said... my sides ache from laughing. >=]

When I don't ache quite so much, I'll show Jack just how much I appreciated that silliness. For now, I'm rather pleased with the compliment he gave me. I'd laughed so hard, my eyes teared up. He said that they were so clean and clear; utterly glorious and he could stare into them for hours if it weren't so corny.

He pleases me.


	190. Tuesday, July 14, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Meh.  
Cupcakes: 0 (GRAH.)

  
Pros:

Spicer pulled a wicked prank that resulted in me getting to enjoy six-meat pizza.

I finally settled on a decision with those flea-infested desert tribesmen.

I spent some intelligent time with Spicer.

Cons:

I had to spend hours thinking about the Uyghurs.

I did not have a great deal of sex today.

NO CUPCAKES.

Spicer informed me of _what_ Katnappé wants to do to herself in the way of cosmetic surgery. I could have happily lived another thousand years without knowing that!


	191. Wednesday, July 15, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Why couldn't _these_ brats have been on that plane?  
Cupcakes: 12

  
Today was spent mostly in bed; mostly in _Jack_ , come to that.

>:3

Of course, he had to give a press conference at some point about how he's filled the needed positions for geniuses at his company, so please stop pestering him with applications. That's when reporters, still having fun poking him with a proverbial stick, asked him about the Caspian airline crash in Iran that happened _today_.

Never mind that Jack was busy enjoying himself with me, but why should he care about people he didn't even know existed that now no longer do? My theory is they're hoping he'll design new aircraft that will not crash so much. He has already eliminated the need for fossil fuel theoretically. He simply has to mass produce as many power cells as the world needs to eliminate fossil fuel dependency for real. That's probably going to be one of the first projects of his company.

I'm hopeful that one of his other projects will be figuring out how to eliminate pollution and actually recycle the mounds of trash littering the continents, the ocean floors, and the air!

I'll ask him about it. If he hasn't already thought of it, I'll request it as a favor to me if only so I don't have to suffer the hideous smell of the world. There is a _reason_ I spend so much of my time inside my palace!


	192. Thursday, July 16, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Detritivores.  
Cupcakes: 5

  
Spicer has shared with me a new word in his ever-expanding arsenal of vocabulary: Detritivore.

Apparently, that is the name assigned to those things that eat detritus or, rather, the remains of something broken or destroyed.

Jack has decided anytime he feels like insulting someone by calling them a "shit-eater," he will simply call them a detritivore so he can have a quick, cheap thrill of doing something naughty and getting away with it.

At least until someone looks up the word. >:3

In _other_ news, however... I shall have to double-check the astrological calendar, but I do believe a long-awaited event will be occurring soon. If I'm correct, the Xiaolin will be utterly powerless and the Heylin shall have an absolute field day!

I'll have to contend with Bean and Wuya being there, but into every life a little _detritus_ must fall.


	193. Friday, July 17, 4707

  
Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Thoroughly unpleasant, but what else is new?  
Cupcakes: 7

  
Today, I endured a minor snit – one of my own.

It seems that Spicer is in the final stages of puberty and is, in fact, _taller_ than I am! Only by a few centimeters, but I must noticeably look _up_ when I wish to meet his gaze.

That he is not actually _finished_ growing means the head tilt will become _more_ noticeable.

I was pouting about that earlier. After all, I _am_ the Evil Everlord around here! _He_ is _my_ Consort!

Spicer, of course, pointed out the benefits of having a Consort taller than myself, which is namely that people will underestimate _me_ as being less powerful because I am sho— _less tall_ than he is. For the few that know us for what we are, they will see Spicer: tall, filthy rich, brilliant, disdainful of humanity... and completely in my thrall.

He _also_ pointed out that our height differences make _little_ difference when we're both horizontal and active.  >=]

And then, he proved it to me – quite brilliantly so, as a matter of fact. To the point that my body is tingling, certain parts of me are numb, and I am on my second cigar while he sprawls limp and unconscious beside me in the wreck of our bed.

......... _Our_ bed.

.......I rather like the way that sounds.

How saccharine. I may need to demolish a pet store just to rid myself of "Cute Cooties."


	194. Saturday, July 18, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Soon...  
Cupcakes: 3

Something is going on with Spicer. He’s restless and he’s a sexual dynamo today. I have to wonder, did he get hold of something chemical? He drinks like a fish, I’d not put it past him to try recreational drugs.

In other news: I wanted to go upstairs today, but I’m far too excited! The celestial event I’ve waited _decades_ for is about to arrive!


	195. Sunday, July 19, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: _Soon..._  
Cupcakes: 2

  
Spicer is a little jitterier today. He can’t seem to sit still to save his life, which makes him a perfect compliment to… oh, it can’t be.

Can it?

I shall have to observe him closely.


	196. Monday, July 20, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: _So_ soon...!  
Cupcakes: 1

Until he says something, I can’t say it definitively, but I’m 99.9% positive that Spicer is reacting to the upcoming celestial event of the century.

Why am I that certain?

He made an arsenal that could slaughter a small city _now_ if he got it into his mind to do so!

I _must_ research concealment spells that will keep the mortal world from noticing the absolute _HELL_ Spicer and I – and the other Heylin members – are about to unleash on the monks.  >=]


	197. Tuesday, July 21, 4707

  
Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: One more day!  
Cupcakes: 0 (too eager)

It is confirmed!

Jack Spicer is undeniably _HEYLIN!_

Some tiny part of me is breathing easier; is able to well-and-truly label him my Consort and not cringe a little inside, as if I were slumming.

He _is_ Heylin, else he’d not have been as antsy as he has been these past few days!

I got to explain it to him at dinner tonight. Though neither of us was really in the mood to eat (difficult to enjoy an appetite when every inch of your skin feels as if it’s crawling with flesh-eating insects), we made a dispirited attempt to do so.

That’s when _this_ happened:

  
Me: You seem distant, Jack. What’s wrong?

Jack: ……you feel it, too.

Me: *cocks eyebrow*

Jack: …You _do_ feel it, right? I mean, I know we haven’t seen each other much the past couple of days, but when I did see you, you looked just as restless as I'm feeling.

Me: *interested look* _You_ feel it?

Jack: Yeah. I have no fucking clue what it _is,_ but yeah, I feel it. I feel like…… something’s gonna happen soon. Something… _good._

  
I felt my skin _hurt_ when I grinned at him. I then informed him that an eclipse is coming; tomorrow, in fact! Now, normally when there is an eclipse, Heylin members get de-powered and otherwise made extremely vulnerable. The last eclipse we had that interfered with the Xiaolin merely affected the Shen-Gong-Wu – _not_ the monks themselves.

Not so _this_ time!  >=D

Tomorrow afternoon, a powerful solar eclipse will strip the Xiaolin Dragons of their powers. _This_ is why Dojo is kept around; they will _need_ him to protect them! Chucky Choo and Fifi will be called in to help, of course, but three out-of-shape dragons contending against myself, Spicer, Bean, Wuya, Katnappé, and various other villains…?

We will _destroy_ them.  >=]

I cannot _WAIT!_


	198. Wednesday, July 22, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: HA!  
Cupcakes: 0 (busy)

  
I can barely move.

My potential vulnerability is worth what happened today.

Jack was _MAGNIFICENT_ as he fought on the side of the Heylin for the first time. He devastated Tohomiko with her own element (and I admit I conjured a fire snake to take after her) and beat Pedrosa into the ground when he used his matter-shifter to become a cyclone.

He assumed form long enough to plant one foot atop Pedrosa's chest and deliver a witty parting shot before I whisked him away, but admittedly, this was at the end of the battle.

He used the weaponry he'd created; he let my warriors use some if they so wished. His new hunter-killer robots laid waste to anyone foolish enough to get in the way.

 _Magnificent_.

>:]

Of course, there were more than a few people there who liked the look of him. I spent half my time warning them away from him and the rest of the time being disgustingly smug that Jack Spicer is _my_ Consort!

In fact, I was so pleased that when I took him home, we had wildly hot sex for several hours – hence why I can barely move.

In summation:

Heylin Victorious

Xiaolin Temple Destroyed

Several Elderly Monks Dead

Heylin Comatose from Godly Sex


	199. Thursday, July 23, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Likely licking their wounds, still.  
Cupcakes: 5

  
I'm still in bed with Jack.

We had a leisurely lie-in. My warriors fixed food and brought it to us so we didn't have to move for anything except toilet breaks and the occasional rinse in the shower.

Then, Jack recited to me a story he'd once heard.

It's about a man who kept trying to prove himself a long time ago; kept trying and kept trying and no matter _what_ that man did, no one believed him simply because they had not seen him do the things he boasted about. Finally, fed-up and heartsick, that man retreated from the world; retreated, sealed himself inside a mountain, and became a demon.

Now, of course, _I_ know the story happened a little differently.

I became a demon _first_ before sealing myself inside a mountain.  >=]

Jack probably suspects the legend is about me, but he never stated it outright.

Content to let it be, I indulged in a favorite pleasure of mine: kissing him. No sex, no groping; simply the caress of lips upon lips.

Ah. Wait, I take that back. He _did_ touch me with his fingers, but it was nothing lewd. We stopped kissing in order to breathe, and we both watched his white-white fingers slide over my shoulder, my arm, and my chest. The look in his red eyes... I saw wonder, there; gratitude and relief. I believe he was silently thanking whatever gods cared to listen that I had accepted Bean's offer all those years ago. I survived until he could be born and discover me. It seems to mean a great deal to him.

My beautiful Jack... you please me.


	200. Friday, July 24, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Contagious, apparently.  
Cupcakes: 2

  
Spicer has, unfortunately, contracted stomach flu from _someone_ at the melee.  
Me being me, I could not resist toying with him despite the fact that he was so utterly miserable with pain and illness, curled up around the toilet.

I hinted that I might be able to get him pregnant.

>=]

It is, of course, _not_ possible: not without heavy biological alteration on his part, either through science or magic. We are both _male_ , after all, and I cannot say as I'm at all eager to have him develop the ability to become pregnant. Any children of mine would only want to overthrow (i.e., kill) me and Jack's focus would shift from me to his offspring.

Not acceptable.

In the meantime, I suppose I ought to make nice with him so that he's coaxed into a better mood.

I get the feeling I'm going to get enough payback as it is within a day or so. I'm already feeling queasy.


	201. Saturday, July 25, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: _Will_ pay for this.  
Cupcakes: 0 (busy eating them in reverse order)

  
Spicer got even for the teasing I gave him. He gave me stomach flu, and in return, he riled me up (while I was doing my own puking) by suggesting that he had had Katnappé use her biology science to make _me_ able to conceive and bear children.

For a few moments... I was worried.

However, one vicious threat prompted Jack to confess that he'd done no such thing, which allowed me to relax and go back to vomiting up everything I've ever eaten for the past 200 years – or so it felt like.

Jack was considerate of me from that point on. He held back my hair, promised we'd seek out the one that gave us the virus and kill them horribly, gave me water as needed, and had some of his Heal-Me Juice tailored specifically to me to help me get over the flu in a matter of minutes.

The HMJ being what it is, it rejuvenated me even as it cleared away any illness, so instead of being exhausted, I felt wonderful!

Wonderful enough to have a talk with Jack and clarify any "children" nonsense between the two of us.

We've formed a two-man mutual appreciation group in that we're both thrilled neither of us wants children, in general or with each other.

It is rather refreshing to finally have a Consort that fully understands and accepts my desire to remain childless. Every Consort I've had up until now has assumed that, at some point in our relationship I would want children.

Jack did cartwheels in his exuberance at the discovery that I have no wish to be a "family man."

Honestly: _What_ about me says that I feel like siring a herd of dragonlings and settling down to play happy homemaker?

What a filthy, revolting thought!


	202. Sunday, July 26, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Still quite on my hit-list.  
Cupcakes: 11

  
Spicer knows some of the most _amusing_ things!

He showed me a television commercial that was pulled from the air waves because it offended too many people. It showed a child being an absolute, horrific, monstrous brat with the father staring in stunned mortification. The only tagline was "Use Condoms."

I laughed until my sides ached. Jack was holding his belly with one hand and his face with the other; a signal that he was laughing so hard his face and gut hurt terribly, but he couldn't stop. >=]

I asked him to convince television executives to put that commercial back on TV. The people of the modern world _need_ to see that message! Hear and obey, simple minds!

We talked some more about the over abundance of children in the world. I remarked how children have changed through the ages. It used to be that they were a fact of life in that they were expected to happen. If they didn't, the woman was relegated to another duty. The children themselves were expected to learn their places in society and grow up to be functional, family-forwarding adults.

These days, they're treated like a rare commodity; protected to the point of smothering, fussed over, adored, and practically worshipped. In only a few countries are children still viewed pragmatically. Some parents love their children, some don't care, some view them as a means of gaining something in exchange for making them.

Then there are countries such as America and Great Britain. Women who are otherwise infertile go mental for the want of a child rounding their bellies. They bleat such trite phrases as "I want to be someone's Mommy!" I cry foul on that one. If my understanding of the countries' economies is correct, a woman would spend as much money adopting and training a child born from someone else as she would in coaxing her reluctant body into a willing-to-bear-fruit stage of readiness. So, it would seem that rather than care for the hordes of children who are lost, alone, abandoned, rejected and _aware_ of it, women will fight to make their own bodies fertile when those bodies clearly do not _want_ to be fertile.

"I want to be someone's Mommy!" _HAH._ More like: "I want to be Pregnant! I want people to see _me_ and make a fuss over _me_. It's all about _me!_ "

I have such an urge to go back to the past and find a random village woman with 12 hungry children hanging from her skirts and introduce her to one of those desperate-to-be-fertile modern women. If the peasant woman didn't gut the whining bitch right then and there, then the desperate-to-relieve-her-burdens peasant woman would offer the fool her choice of any of the brats needing to be fed.

Hah! I can just imagine _that_ conversation.

"You want children? Here! Take one of mine! In fact, take two or three or five! I have plenty to spare and more to come, I'm sure."

"Um... no. No, thank you."

"I thought you wanted to be someone's mother?"

Diol is giving me a funny look at this moment because I'm literally laughing out loud at the idea of such a meeting.

Ah, well. I'm certain that between Jack and Katnappé, the women of the world that want children will soon be fertile again relatively easily. I doubt I'll have to remind Jack to create an option for easy infertility for those men and women who would rather eat their own intestines for breakfast than have children.

I wonder what Jack is up to at this moment? Perhaps he needs a happy reminder that we're both males and thus, no matter how hard and often I fuck him, children between us will not result?

Yes... yes, I think he does. >=]


	203. Monday, July 27, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Hmph.  
Cupcakes: 6

  
Given how worn out I am; how damp, how achy, and generally lethargic, anyone would think I'd been out in the muggy mid-summer heat that is currently wilting China into a bubbling pile of goo.

I have not been out of my own _bed_ except for a few up-against-a-wall, in-the-bath, and over-a-desk antics with Spicer.

>=]

By the time we were done and had showered clean for the final time today, I was reeking of artificial flavoring and scent, and Jack looks like he is trying to be one of those revolting quasi-vampires from that insipid, tepid book that has taken the world by storm recently.

Oh, lords, gods, and minor deities... I need to come up with a better analogy lest I suffer nightmares of my Consort turning into the Gayest Vampire on the Planet.

Hmmm... "Nuclear Strike in a Diamond Mine?" Yes, that fits; I was nearly irreparably blinded by one of those once. I looked away in the nick of time, but I was seeing spots for weeks afterwards.

Hmph. That's enough pondering for one day. I am a very, very tired Heylin monster that has _earned_ his rest!


	204. Tuesday, July 28, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: _Truly_ uninteresting.  
Cupcakes: 8

  
I can’t move. I don’t think I’ll be _able_ to move for a while, yet, which is a shame as Spicer is unconscious beside me and we’re both lying in a pile far from my bed.

Tonight’s energetic (highly, _incredibly_ energetic) sex is a direct result of Jack angering me to the point of violence, and then coddling me out of said anger by fixing me a veritable feast of foods for dinner followed by said energetic sex.

I’m going to have to go furniture shopping to replace the dining table. It cracked apart where I was gripping it on either side, when I came. Jack’s scream of “UH! OH! FUCK YES CHASE FUCK FUCK OHHHHHHHHHH _GOD!!_ ” there at the end was particularly inspiring. >=]

As for why I was angry… he was considering changing his appearance. Not a haircut, not a _just_ a new hair color, but his _skin_ and his _eyes_.

Katnappé, that interfering feline freak, tried to ingratiate herself to her new boss by offering to fix his chromosomes or whatever it is that decides skin, eye, and hair color.

I was invited down to the lab; a message passed on by Diol. Once I was there, the two wunderkinds put on a demonstration of Jack with _normal_ skin and hair and eyes.

I looked at the projected image of Jack with pale peach skin, green eyes, mundane red hair, and felt ready to vomit. My unique, beautiful Consort had, through virtual imaging, been rendered into some boring, mundane, looks-just-like-any-mortal young man.

I was _furious_.

Granted, I was pleased that he’d realized he needed to check with me first. After all, I _am_ his overlord. He _works_ for me when he isn’t busy being my bed toy. I am pleased he thought to check with me first.

That he _wanted_ to ruin his looks in the first place…! There aren’t words filthy or angry enough to express precisely what I think of that idea.

I slapped him upside his head, slapped Katnappé upside _her_ head for good measure, and then stormed out before I did something more drastic, such as murder _her_ and cripple _him_.

What on _Earth_ made that fool think I would be satisfied with an ordinary-looking lover? _None_ of my Consorts have looked ordinary! They have always been uniquely _extraordinary_ in appearance.

That _idiot_ Spicer… the gods alone know what he was thinking, considering making such a change.

Fortunately, I doubt I need worry about it. He seemed well-pleased with life and his place in it even _before_ the fucking started.

….Perhaps he still suffers from anxiety about his appearance? It cannot have been easy for him to grow up with pure white skin and blood red eyes. Children are horribly cruel to each other. Jack, being the “weirdo” amongst other children, was the designated and preferred target of his classmates. Therefore, he’d have built a conscious and subconscious hatred of his appearance.

I should have been aware of this, but really… he earned my allegiance, is frequently exhausted and sitting gingerly because of my enthusiastic approval of him and his talents… what _other_ measurement of success does he need to realize he’s fine the way he is?

Then again, everyone oohs and ahhs over his brain. I doubt anyone has ever made a fuss over his appearance in a _positive_ way.

Perhaps it’s time to start.


	205. Wednesday, July 29, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Don't even truly warrant a mention.  
Cupcakes: 4

  
Today was spent eradicating any crippling self-doubt my Consort still had – which I consider strange in that he _had_ some. Honestly: he captured _my_ interest. Shouldn't that be a telling sign that he has nothing to worry about in the looks department?

Still, he has spent all of his life mocked and hunted and tortured in one form or another for his appearance. Letting go of such trauma is not that easy.

Therefore, I dragged him into bed with me and made him talk about it. Every single insult he's ever had, we exposed and examined together. When he told me of the Casper insult (a two-fold insult, as the ghost he was being likened to is a _friendly_ ghost), I responded eagerly.

I stroked his skin with the reverence it deserves. I have always had an absolute fascination with very pale skin. True, I do like dark skin, but _pale_ skin... the lighter, the better. I don't know why, but I do know that I've had this liking for it from a very young age.

So, I admired his skin with touch and words. When I finally acquiesced to his demands that I fuck him, I did so while assuring him that I would _never_ wish normalcy on him.

To eradicate that white skin would be to _ruin_ Jack Spicer, and that I will not tolerate.

Today's efforts had a positive effect. Jack's skin is almost _glowing_ with joy and his pleasure in himself has resulted in being ultimately pleased with me for going to so much trouble to reassure him of his worth. While I was bathing, he teleported in using the Tech-GTC and promptly got his mouth around my cock.

Hmmm. I wonder if my warriors have finished mopping up all the water that sloshed out of the tub tonight? >=]


	206. Thursday, July 30, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Don't care, don't care, don't care...need I go on?  
Cupcakes: 9

  
Spicer spent the day at his new company, so I took advantage of his absence to have an ultimate training session with my warriors. I was surprised to discover that we _all_ needed it, but lately, I’ve been devoting more time to having sex with Jack and playing in space than battle training.

I’m going to have to let Jack know that I’m going to need more time for training, so please stop being so seductive and sexy at every turn. If he’d like to continue being my Consort, he’s going to need me around to Consort _for_.

Still, the exercise did me good. Spicer and I met up with each other before dinner. I’d made my bruises and welts disappear by the time he arrived, so there was nothing for him to worry about. My warriors kept out of sight.

It was rather cute to see Jack talking about his employees. For all his designs of being a lord of the world, he’s distinctly uncomfortable _having_ minions of his own. I suspect there’s a part of him that finds it odd to have minions when he himself _is_ a minion.

He told me all about his day and by the time he was done I was craving his pretty white skin and hot, sweet mouth. I had him over the dinner table _before_ the meal could arrive. Fortunately, I know a handy sanitizing spell, but I simply couldn’t wait to have him.

Gods, the feel of his legs wrapping around my waist as I drove into him, and that tight, perfect ass of his…! I’m beginning to think I will never truly become bored of having sex with Jack Spicer.

Now that I think about it, this is the longest I’ve ever had a Consort. By now, there’s usually been some sign of whining and clinging; of me not giving enough. Jack, though…

Hmmm.


	207. Friday, July 31, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Mrr.  
Cupcakes: 5

Nothing of importance occurred today. I trained more with my warriors; Spicer did whatever science thing tugged most at his heart.

I must say it is strange right now, though. I’m getting ready to sleep and I feel… oddly lacking; as if something hasn’t been completed.

I can’t think what. I accomplished everything I meant to do today.

Hmmm. Perhaps I need to sleep on it.


	208. Saturday, August 1, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Too entertained to care!  
Cupcakes: 3

  
Today marked the beginning of August. Spicer pointed out to me that it used to be the sixth month, according to the Roman calendar.

Naturally, we had to make use of this fact. Two healthy, young (-ish) men with nothing else to do on a Saturday…? Naturally, we played Dress Up.

We somehow managed to enact a Roman drama. Jack’s name was Mentulus (slang for ‘penis’) and mine was Sextilus. We dressed up in Ancient Roman clothing; tunics, sandals, and jewelry, and my warriors performed the part of “extras.” Spicer and I had a Senate meeting, we had battles (in which he did not fare too badly, nor did I go too easy on him), and we had spectacular sex. I greatly enjoyed being the conquering Roman general that won the impudent young Senator as my prize. >=]

I was surprised to discover that Spicer had his Jackbots recording the entire thing. He muttered something about forcing the post-pubescent children of the world out of the doldrums of growing up with Twilight, Hannah Montana, and the Jonas Brothers. He started to explain to me who the last two in the line-up were, but I forbade him. Judging by the sneer on his face and the revulsion in his tone, these people are nothing I wish to know about if I want to keep my mind as uncontaminated by stupidity and mediocrity as possible.

To get him _off_ that topic, I casually inquired if this meant we were starting our own “home porn” collection. After he stopped gleefully freaking out about me even knowing of such things, he began writing up a list of porn stories he’d like us to work through.

Naturally, I don’t mind too awfully much. >=]

I also discovered why I couldn’t sleep last night: Spicer was not there. He’d gone to his own room to sleep, but for the past week or so, he’s been sleeping with me. Of course, we’d had enthusiastic sex in my bed, so naturally he’d sleep there, but not last night. He figured it out sooner than I did and came to join me.

Speaking of joining me…! My door just opened and I am currently watching Jack set up an array of tripods and video cameras around the bed.

He is also wearing what appears to be an extremely sexy male nurse’s outfit.

I do believe I need my temperature checked, because it suddenly seems quite warm in here!


	209. Sunday, August 2, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Only mildly irritating as of yet; _provided_ they continue to stay out of my way.  
Cupcakes: 5

  
Something is happening and I am at the center of it.

There is a massive tropical storm developing nearby. It will hit land, of course; the Asian coastal system is going to be devastated.

But, whatever this storm is brewing, I am the target of it – or, if not target, then I am at least involved. Given that this is a wind-and-water storm, neither of which are my primary elements, for me to be as keenly aware of it as I am, I _must_ be involved.

I daresay Pedrosa is aware of it, but at last check, he hasn’t said a word about it nor has he made any move to deal with it. He has enough warning he could begin evacuating human settlements and cities, but so far, nothing.

He’s already proven he has a vicious mean-streak and he even joined the Heylin side once. He could so easily re-join us, and I would actually work on coaxing him to come to me if it wouldn’t result in a spectacular tantrum on Spicer’s part that might actually destroy them both. Jack is savvy enough to not protest should I decide to fuck someone else, but I do believe he would go mental if I chose Pedrosa. Those two are born enemies, but that’s hardly surprising, as they’re both members of the Metal House.

Supposedly, given Jack’s birth year, he is a Water-Rooster, but records get lost and people lose track of time; whole decades of time, in fact. Jack is, actually, a Metal-Rooster; everything about the element fits him perfectly. That he is compatible with me, a Fire-Ox, is rather miraculous – though fire can temper metal and shape it in subtle ways; make it pliant and perfect, removing impurities.

Pedrosa, of course, is a Metal. There is no “wind” in the Chinese Cycle of Wu Xing, but the element _does_ exist. It is far easier for someone to tap into wind than metal, physically. Thus, the Xiaolin have brain-washed their trainees for millennia. Guan, though, carries a metal and wood spear as his focus. Pedrosa was given that metal and wooden pendant he wears constantly as his focus. I am not entirely certain _how_ that works, as by the time I learned to manipulate the other elements, I had moved past such crutches.

Given that there is no “Wind,” it doesn’t seem right that Pedrosa senses the building maelstrom and Jack does not, except that Jack has had no training in tapping into and using an element.

Still, two highly volatile members of the same element cannot withstand each other’s presence – or, even, each other’s _existence_ – at all easily. There is a reason Guan and Pedrosa get on each other’s nerves; why Jack taunts the two of them on a regular basis. It is also why I react as strongly as I do with venomous hatred towards Tohomiko. Without that, she would be nothing to me and as easily ignored.

Unfortunately, whatever is at the center of the gathering storm is _not_ so easily ignored, though I did try. My “trying” was done in the form of sex with Jack; lots and lots and _lots_ of sex! Admittedly, because I’d been thinking of Pedrosa’s lack of giving a damn about the defenseless humans and his ephemeral connection to the Heylin forces, I was driven by fantasies of him joining _my_ forces in particular.

Even as I fucked Jack hard, driving into him and delighting in the sound of his excitement and the feel of his nails clawing my back, I was thinking of what it would be like to have both him _and_ Pedrosa in my bed. I came particularly hard at the vision of myself fucking Pedrosa while he sucked Jack off, my Consort’s white skin flushed pink with desperate arousal.

Mmmm… I am hard just thinking of it again. Jack, perfect as he is, has naturally responded. So ready to be my beautiful, eager slut…

>=]


	210. Monday, August 3, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Pale in comparison to my Consort's excellence, of course!  
Cupcakes: 7

  
I’ve had a silly day, but I am quite pleased with it nonetheless.

I informed Jack that Morakot (the name given to the tropical storm by mortal authorities) has strengthened, but I feel nothing worse than I had yesterday, so whatever is coming can be dealt with.

He insisted that it was his duty to keep me from “getting all pensive about it” and invited me over to the Spicer mansion so we could fuck in his parents’ former bed.

The sheets were changed because the gods alone know _what_ was left on them. In fact, I burned the old set and then hit the mattress and frame with a cleaning spell that made the bed glow for a few seconds. New sheets were put on and then Jack and I played our game.

I pretended to be Martin Spicer and Jack pretended to be a cheap whore that Martin picked up because the man hasn’t the sense to not stick his dick into widely used pussy. I did dirty, depraved things to him and he to me.

Jack made it a point to come all over his father’s pillow with my cock up his ass, fucking him hard through his orgasm.

I was desperately pleased with Jack’s performance. He must have watched quite a bit of porn in preparation; taking notes and practicing for him to do the things he did today. In particular, I loved the moment when I was lying on my back and he was seated atop me. He was leaning back, bracing himself up with his hands on my thighs while he rolled his hips in quick, dirty circles of pleasure, fucking himself lewdly on my erection.

I feel the need to have him again, now, of course. I believe I’ll go make a mess of _his_ sheets for a change.  >=]

Now, where did I put that cinnamon-sugar lube?


	211. Tuesday, August 4, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Feh.  
Cupcakes: 4

  
Today, I met Jack Spicer for the first time.

It isn’t as strange as it sounds. What happened today was something from my past that I’d largely forgotten, but that definitely sparked my life-long preference for pale-skinned people.

I was anxious to do something to keep from getting too antsy about the approaching storm. As much as I enjoy having sex with Spicer, I don’t want to have it _too_ much in one go lest I become desensitized to it. Not that I believe I would, but I’d rather not risk losing my appreciation for such a talented bed toy.  >=]

So, when Jack suggested going back to the past so he could see me as a child (he’d thought I was “cute” as a pre-teen, but he wanted to see me even smaller), I thought about it and the memory surfaced readily which was a sure indicator that we were about to make a portion of my personal history – literally.

I took us to the past, not bothering to change the day (only the year). I conjured us in clothing of the period, only in dark colors because neither of us has any business wearing pastels. I even provided a parasol for my Consort, which earned me an adoring, appreciative look for my thoughtfulness. It wasn’t an altruistic action; I had no wish to see his beautiful skin burnt.

We strolled along for a while, ostensibly ignoring the people around us but both of us highly aware of how intimidating we are. My wickedness and his coloring…? I still wonder why we were not greeted as either demons or princes or both.

And then, we found me.

I pointed Jack in the direction of my younger self and watched my sexy, sensual Consort turn into a squealing, emotional idiot.

He begged me for permission to hug my younger self and, naturally, I gave it. The moment when a complete stranger the color of death pounced on me and hugged me for several long, warm, wonderful minutes is what cemented my adoration of pale skin.

Once I gave permission, Jack was across the street and kneeling down in the dirt for better access to my four-year-old self, and the hug was engaged.

I watched my childhood self start in fear and confusion. I was not given much physical affection when I was a child. My parents were too busy starving and being miserable to give a damn about any problems I might have had, and Dashi was off training to be a Xiaolin Dragon more often than not. It would be a few more years before my parents shipped me off to join my brother so they could spare what material provisions they had for themselves. Until then, I was left largely alone and untouched.

Except for a random day in August when a stranger with skin the color of snow and poppy-red eyes came up to me out of nowhere and hugged me.

I watched as my younger self got over the shock and confusion; realized that someone was giving him affection for no reason except that he existed, and returned the hug. Even now, I can remember (thanks to the time traveling) the smell of Jack’s skin and the feel of his clothing; the warmth and strength of his arms and his torso as he hugged me close against him. Even at that age, I could sense his great affection for me as he held my tiny body as if I were the most precious thing in existence.

My childhood self enjoyed the feeling, even if he did not believe it.

My adult self believes it utterly. For whatever reasons, I am all that is precious and worthy to Jack. I wonder why, when I did nothing but disdain him and actively hurt him when we finally met again in these modern times.

Bah; it is nothing to wonder about – only to accept. Jack Spicer is my Consort, and he is mine because he is utterly devoted to me and respectful of me.

I called my Consort back to me after some time. I remember the advice he gave me; “do nothing bad unless non-discovery is certain.” I remember watching from a very-low-to-the-ground vantage point as my mysterious stranger went to the side of a tall, dark stranger that emanated wickedness, though I admit my eyes then had been only for the beautiful white man that vanished into the crowds. I remember how close I had been to running after them, begging the white man to take me with him, when my mother arrived. Someone had told her what was happening and she’d left her meager market stall to come check on me. I remember being dragged back to the stall and her berating me, but my mind was filled with the sense-memory of warm, strong arms holding me lovingly.

When we returned to our time, I told Jack of the memory I’d had. It had been vague until we embarked on the journey, but I did remember it, and that is why I love pale skin in general and _his_ skin in particular. When I was a child, my heart and soul immediately and instantly yearned for, _craved_ , the white-skinned man. I wished only to be with him and to keep him as mine so that those wonderful hugs could be bestowed on no one but me. Now, of course, as a grown man, my _craving_ is somewhat different.  >=]

In fact, I feel the ‘craving’ building hot and strong within me. Then again, I cannot help but being pleased with him today. He was generous to my younger self _and_ to my elder self; the first with emotion and the second by baking me an armada of tiny, chocolaty, sugary cakes called Ruske Kape.

I am full of good food, delicious treats, and now I crave the sensation of fucking my Consort deep and hard while he holds me close against him in the frantic throes of eager lust.


	212. Wednesday, August 5, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: *snort*  
Cupcakes: 0 (too tense)

  
Morakot is now a typhoon. Whatever is coming, it is powerful and deadly.

I remained close to Jack all day, in the off-chance that if the something coalesced and attacked, I would be able to keep him alive during the assault.

It never happened and I was left alternately watching him work on various projects and interrupting that work with quick, dirty fornication on whatever surface took my fancy.

Jack eventually locked away the Lotus Twister simply because every time I pounced on him, I was intent on bending us into new and formerly impossible positions.

I settled for bending him over his own worktable after that. I do rather love fucking him in that position; standing behind him, gripping his hips as I thrust hard and deep and fast, in and out, over and over until he comes screaming my name and I am free to come inside him. In that position, he is dependent only on the sensation of me moving inside of him. He has no leverage with which to stroke his own cock for added sensation unless he’d rather have face burn from being forced to lie fully across the table in order to reach between his legs and stroke.

Yes… I really do believe that is why I love fucking him in that position; he comes only from what I do to him, only from my cock driving deep into him, out again, and in again until the pleasure is too much and he cannot help but come hard. >=]

Then again, he got back at me. I am particularly susceptible to fellatio. I will do anything to keep a mouth that is pleasuring me from _stopping_. After the last round of “Over the Worktable” that Jack allowed for the day, he turned, crouched, and cleaned me with his mouth. How he managed that when I’m certain his legs were weak with pleasure is beyond me, but I did not _care_ in that moment. All I knew was that his gloriously talented tongue was drawing agonized pleasure from my insanely sensitive flesh.

He took his time cleaning me; long enough that I hardened again and then he took his time sucking me off. My orgasm was mind-numbingly intense and I fully intend to make him repeat that performance eventually!

When I regained awareness, he was fully dressed and looking at me with smug, exhausted affection.

For now, I require sleep. My antics today wore us both out.


	213. Thursday, August 6, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Not even _remotely_ worthy of concern; not now!  
Cupcakes: 0 (you're _kidding_ , right?!)

  
 _FUCK!_

Spicer woke me up not long after I’d settled in for sleep. He had the Fountain of Hui and the Eagle Scope with him. I could not fault his logic in thinking of using them to discover what Morakot is going to bring.

Apparently, it is bringing _me_.

A Chase Young from an alternate dimension is going to be pulled from his plane of existence into this one.

This is _bad_. There aren’t any words in _any_ language to fully and accurately describe how catastrophic this could be.

There is no possible way there can be two fully mature, Heylin Chase Youngs sharing a plane of existence at the same time without something disastrous happening.

I cannot stand the thought of another me anywhere near my palace, my possessions, and especially my Consort!

Unfortunately, I am simply going to have to make the attempt. The plan that Jack and I have come up with is simple: when the other me (Jack calls him Alt!Chase) arrives, we catch him before he is fully aware of his new surroundings and bring him back _here_. I will extend to my alternate self the courtesy of staying in familiar surroundings in order to ready himself for returning home. Morakot must shift a few significant degrees and begin to disperse before the ability to return the interloper from whence he came can activate.

The only way to prevent utter devastation to my things and my world is to adhere to the decision to not engage in battle with my other self, no matter how aggravating it is to have an equally powerful predator (even knowing it is myself from another Earth) in my territory.

Gods _damn_ it! I do not _want_ this to happen! I want to establish my dominance and emerge victorious against an opponent that will actually be a challenge to battle!

On the other hand, I do not want to risk losing my life, my things, and my Consort.

My Consort! My Jack…

If that other me dares to attempt fucking _my_ Consort, this world is going to die in the wake of the war that will be waged!


	214. Friday, August 7, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Hrm.  
Cupcakes: 0 (again)

  
The other Chase has not arrived yet. I doubt it will happen tomorrow, either, but within the next five days, to be certain.

Jack and I have tried to behave as normally as possible. We even went “upstairs” today so that I could look upon my world; lord of all I surveyed!

Still, there is no denying we are both nervous. Jack’s skin is showing signs of heat rashes – something that happens only when he is particularly worried/terrified of an impending event. I have not been able to keep still for longer than five minutes.

I would love a battle with my other self only for the fact that it would be a true contest between us. As it stands now, only Bean can give me the same challenge.

Yet… I will do almost anything to avoid a battle with my other self for that very same reason. If we fight, we will fight for real. Either one of us will die, because neither one of us is someone we can easily win against.

Jack is entirely aware of it. He cannot stop reaching out to touch me, subconsciously reassuring himself that I am still alive and with him.

I have responded by touching him more than usual.

I wish this was over and done with already. I do not want to do this.


	215. Saturday, August 8, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Who _cares?_  
Cupcakes: 0 ( _still_ )

  
It will be tomorrow.

Tomorrow, my alternate self will arrive. We know what will happen, thanks to the Fountain of Hui. My other self will arrive in a whirl of wind and water, plummeting from the sky and landing in a sodden heap face down in the surf and sand of a beach. Jack and I will swoop in and spirit him away, back to the palace. I would rather it be just myself, rather than take Jack into that mess, but he plans to use his matter-shifter to keep himself unharmed by flying debris and water.

I am dreading this with every fiber of my being. I have the feeling that no matter how hard I try to remain diplomatic, there is going to be a terrible fight.

I also have the feeling that Jack will be at the center of it.

That feeling has made me edgy in regard to him all day. Every time I fuck him, I cannot help but hold him tightly and declare him mine in every sense of the word.

Jack being Jack, he has realized this. He’s promised me that even if my alternate self attempts to take him away from me, he will fight with every bit of strength and cunning and weaponry he possesses. Knowing me as well as he does, and betting that the other me will be quite similar, he even plans to scream RAPE if that will help since I abhor that particular type of violence.

He has allowed me to cuddle him possessively for hours, putting aside any work he might have been able to focus on.

We won’t be getting any rest tonight. The both of us are simply too tense with worry about the impending disaster. In fact, Jack has gone for coff—ah, here he is now.

Gods, he’s beautiful. The thought of another’s hands on him; another’s mouth, tongue, cock…

 _NO!_

 _MINE_.


	216. Sunday, August 9, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Hmph.  
Cupcakes: 3

  
So… apparently, I am female.

The other me, that is.

Spicer and I were waiting when Morakot ripped a hole in time and space to fling my alternate self into this world.

We went to the limp, drenched figure that was already struggling to sit up and I used my magic to provide a shield that would allow us to converse.

Alternate!me lifted his head… and revealed himself to be a _she!_

I must admit, I am a devastatingly gorgeous woman. Were I not so ready to rip her throat out just for being in my territory, I wouldn’t mind getting a closer look at my feminine form. It would be the ultimate form of masturbation, after all. Unfortunately, the chances are entirely high that she would end up pregnant, no matter what type of precautions we might take. I shudder to think what abomination would result from Chase Young being impregnated by her male self.

Jack has subsequently relaxed quite a bit in the “worry about being Jack-napped” department. Not only did we learn at dinner that my other self (who calls herself Cyrah Young) has a Jack Spicer of her own (though that Consort is also female and is named Jacqueline), but Jack cannot fathom being wanted by Cyrah since he himself is as gay as the day is long.

My Jack simply cannot stomach the thought of having sex with a woman. He is so incredibly oriented on men that, even if I were to make him so wild with lust _and_ have my cock inside him, should a vagina come anywhere near him he will immediately go limp and flee in disgust. It is an unfortunate thing that has prevented me from fulfilling a naughty threesome fantasy with Jack and Katnappé; myself inside him and him inside her. Still, it could be worse.

He could be specifically oriented _only_ on females and not want me at all – a thought that makes me want to beat something to death and then hunt him down and fuck him in a show of dominance.

Something Cyrah is quite capable of as well.

Jack might be certain that she won’t want him because he is homosexual, but I know me. If _I_ am entertaining thoughts (and I am; many, _many_ thoughts!) of spending hours in bed and inside a female Jack Spicer, then Cyrah is by now utterly randy with thoughts of Jack’s long, hard cock standing at attention for her to ride for as long as she pleases.

That whore had best not put those thoughts into action any time soon!

She might, though. The atmosphere within the palace is incredibly tense. Cyrah being who she is, she has attempted to be socially dominant. Unfortunately for her, neither my warriors, my Consort, nor my Consort’s robotic minions will heed any orders from her. Only until I give those orders will they be carried out.

Were positions reversed, I would be killing anything within reach inside of an hour.

So, we shall see what happens. Jack is currently curled up in bed beside me. I had to use a minor spell on him to help him get some sleep. I need him as rested as possible to help me deal with this.

I shall indulge myself with looking at him and picturing what he would look like as a female. I’m certain he is as beautiful in a womanly form as he is in his male form… but the thought of curvy hips, bountiful breasts, and a hot, wet pocket tucked between sleek white legs is painfully arousing. What would it be like to have a male and female version _together_ in my bed? Twin Jack Spicers… one male, one female.

 _DAMN_ that I put him to sleep so quickly! I wish Jack was awake now; I need to fuck.


	217. Monday, August 10, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Perhaps they would provide a few convenient punching bags for this frustration...?  
Cupcakes: 2

  
Incredible.

The bitch actually tried to take Jack from me – and nobody died.

Jack tried to get some work done in the lab. I had things of my own to do, but assigned Diol and a few other cats to guard him.

My poor Diol; it’ll be weeks until his broken legs heal, but at least she missed his spine. For hurting _him_ I ought to gut Cyrah like a trout.

Cyrah cornered Jack in his lab. He tried to talk her out of it, but she was intent on having him. Fortunately, I arrived before she could touch him.

The fight still happened, however. As I said: the bitch tried to _take him from me!_ Too, _she_ was angry because no one was letting her have what she wanted, i.e., Jack.

The shouting and snarling was horrendously loud. I tore her apart verbally for trying to take _my_ Jack when she already has one of her own, and she retorted with the accusation that if our positions were reversed, I’d be trying to acquire a _female_ Jack Spicer to make a matched set of my own back home.

I didn’t agree openly, but I acknowledged the point in my own mind.

Still… _she tried to take my Jack from me!_

Then, Jack went and did something incredibly dangerous and foolish.

He got between us.

To my surprise (and possibly Cyrah’s), we pulled back rather than harm him. That isn’t to say we stopped shouting hatefully at each other, but we resorted to verbal thrashings rather than risk harming Jack.

He managed to shut us up, however, and turned his powerful intelligence and wit on Cyrah to force her to think about what she was doing in a logical process.

Item One: Cyrah likes to fuck women quite a bit and Jacqueline quite a lot, but occasionally likes to ride cock. Since Jack has one, being the male version of her Consort, he is a natural choice.

Item Two: My Jack is identical to Jacqueline in coloring, intelligence, and personality. The only difference between them is gender. (I must admit, a certain part of me _really_ liked knowing that.)

Item Three: Jack almost fell apart as he pointed out how devastating it would be for Cyrah to bring him to her world; not for him, but for _Jacqueline_. He explained that it would hurt his female counterpart as badly as it would hurt _him_ were I to bring Jacqueline into my home. The reason being…? The Spicers would each feel like they were being replaced; like they were obsolete and no longer good enough now that a differently-gendered version of them had shown up to be everything their Dragon-Lord could want.

He was a shuddering, shaking wreck as he explained this to Cyrah (and me). I couldn’t stand the sight of him breaking apart even at a hypothetical scenario. Jack has accepted that I will occasionally have sex with women, but to possibly be replaced with _himself_ only as a female…?

He was dying on his feet from a broken heart just at the thought of it.

I went to him; held him against me and nuzzled him, trying to calm him down. I could hear his heart pounding, I could see his cheeks and throat turning bright pink – a sign that his blood pressure was rising dangerously fast. I nuzzled him and rubbed his back, saturating his senses with my touch and scent to reassure him that I was still with him and him with me.

Cyrah acquiesced immediately. She would not hurt her Jacqueline that badly anymore than I would do that to Jack. The fantasy of two Spicers, one male and one female, is beautiful and arousing but if I must choose, then I choose _my_ Spicer – _Jack_ Spicer.

Cyrah has stated a reluctance to distress her own Consort and has acknowledged that since the Spicers are so similar, it means that the only way she could get Jack to have sex with her would be to rape him – and that, _no_ Chase Young of any gender or form will do. She has retired to her room and will remain there to prevent any further mishaps from occurring that will prevent _her_ from returning home tomorrow.

He is curled up against me now in bed. Even as I write this, he is resting his head on my chest and humming contentedly as I stroke and play with his hair.

My poor, beautiful Consort. You’ve been put through the ringer today.

I shall make it up to you.


	218. Tuesday, August 11, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Still trivial in importance; we'll see.  
Cupcakes: 23 (in celebration; I'm allowed)

  
Cyrah has gone back to her own dimension. She will no doubt be quite busy reassuring her frantic Consort and relieving her stress and tension by fucking Jacqueline into limp exhaustion. I have stroked myself off several times today thinking of two beautiful women together.

Why did I not make use of Jack…?

He is asleep and has been for hours. The strain of being almost Jack-napped by my female self and then having to calm down two raging “hellbeasts” as he termed us (I rather like it!) was too much for his nerves.

When he wakes up, however… I have plans for a long, slow, hard fuck with my Consort. >=]

In other news, Morakot destroyed a town named Xiaolin in Taiwan.

I am hysterically, wickedly amused!


	219. Wednesday, August 12, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 52 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Shall never serve me as well as my Consort.  
Cupcakes: 1 (less cup, more cake)

  
Today was Consort Appreciation Day.

As I’ve never had one long enough for there to be such a thing, it was a new experience for me, too.

I declared that today was a day of pampering the hell out of Jack Spicer for giving me the joy of a Consort that had not worn out his welcome in the six months he’s been mine. The longest I’ve ever had a Consort was four months, and then only because she was absent for a month due to… hmmm. I’ve forgotten. Oh, well; it doesn’t matter. She was a beautiful woman, but like so many others, she’d become dissatisfied with having to share me with others and let her displeasure be known.

Jack, however…! Jack has lasted six months because he has pleased me and pleasured me without fail. He bakes orgasm-inducing treats for me on a regular basis, he has sex with me in a variety of interesting and fantastically filthy ways on a regular basis, and has remained aware of the fact that he is my _Consort_ and that _I_ am the Lord and Master around here. I am the overlord, he is the minion, and Jack has not forgotten that. He has not overstepped his bounds and has done everything he possibly can to keep me content with him – even to the point of trying to fight off an alternate version of myself in order to remain mine. Prior to that, he cooked and kowtowed and did everything he could to help me entertain and keep peace between me and myself.

In short, he has been an exceptional Consort and I felt that he deserved a reward for it.

I asked him to pick out his most decadent cake recipe and then give that recipe to my warriors. For the whole day, we were waited on entirely by my warriors. The cake – a sinfully delicious chocolate and cream cheese concoction that had me making the most obscene noises of delight at the first taste – was baked and delivered to us. Jack, when pressed, admitted that he’d been saving this recipe for a time when he’d screwed up badly, but as he hadn’t done anything to warrant it, the cake had gone unmade.

I’ve made him promise that if there’s bad news to be delivered, it is to be done with cake. _Really_ bad news shall be done with _this_ cake.

Still, we spent the day wallowing in luxury. He was confused, but I explained why it was being done and he submitted gleefully; entirely happy and touched to be thought of so highly by me.

We took a long, hot bubble-bath together. We sipped wine that Jack practically had an orgasm over, which pleased me. I didn’t tell him, but _I_ made that wine; made it and bottled it almost two hundred years ago and have been saving for a truly spectacular occasion.

This qualifies.

We were lazy and decadent today, and then I gifted him with a deep-tissue massage that relaxed muscles he didn’t even know he had.

And then, he demonstrated precisely why I think so highly of him: he returned the massage favor without hesitation simply because he felt so good, he thought I would appreciate having it done to me, too.

I ought to go back in time a few years and slap myself upside the head for thinking that Jack Spicer would forever be worthless to me. I would, too, except that it never happened and so I won’t do it.

Discovering how perfect Jack is for me has been a journey worth taking.

He is asleep now. Bruises are blossoming all over his skin from the massage, as he’d warned me would happen so I wouldn’t be upset about it later. Still, he looks utterly comfortable and I know a spell that will vanish the bruises before he wakes up.

For now, I need sleep as well.


	220. Thursday, August 13, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 53 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Have lost and I have won! >:3  
Cupcakes: 7

  
The Ninja Sash went active today. Its power is to duplicate the wearer. It was created by a Master Monk as a means of discipline for unruly or arrogant students. The theory being that once exposed to oneself, the wearer will realize the error of his or her ways and change for the better.

It was used on me as a disciplinary means perhaps a week or two before I turned to the Heylin.

I dragged my duplicate away on the pretense of us having a fight. Instead, I had sex with myself for hours and so learned precisely how much I love to have my cock sucked. After all, I had seen myself having sex with a _gorgeous_ white-skinned male only a few months earlier; it had to be something worth doing if I was doing it so eagerly.

I was pleased to discover I was correct in my thinking. >=]

At any rate, Jack was in a good mood and feeling feisty, so I took him to the activation site and he beat the monks senseless to acquire the silly thing. After that, he and I put on a heavily sensual kissing show in order to make Pedrosa burn in jealousy.

Jack and I came home and had sex, because we were turned on after what we did to Pedrosa.

When I woke up, I was startled to find _two_ Jack Spicers in my bed. One of them was wearing the Ninja Sash while the copy was purely naked.

The original Jack explained that he figured that since Cyrah had wanted a threesome with Spicer twins bad enough to try to steal him, then I had probably been entertaining similar thoughts. Before I could say anything, his duplicate said that since I had apparently given up on such thoughts without a word and had, in fact, pampered him so thoroughly to show how pleased I was with his existence, this was then my reward for being so spectacularly awesome and amazing.

A threesome with Spicer twins; both male, but _two_ of them.

Jack and his copy put on a show for me to arouse me. Two beautiful white bodies twined together on the bed, writhing and kissing and fondling. I watched, shivering with lust at the spectacle before me.

And then, they turned their attention to me.

Two hot, lithe, wet tongues licked my hard cock and then one of the Spicers went down on me while the other, the original, kissed me deeply. When he released my mouth, he told me how lucky he was to be my Consort and to enjoy my gift, and then moved lower to help his copy pleasure me.

I tried to hold back, but within minutes, I came _screaming_.

In the hours that followed, I fulfilled as many fantasies as I could. I do not believe Jack will be willing to do this often, or even again, so I had to do as much as I could while I had his permission.

Jack Spicer now knows precisely how tight and hot and perfect his ass is, since I was behind him and he was behind his duplicate. He also knows precisely what he looks like while having sex with me without having to watch a tiny, two-dimensional version of it on a monitor screen.

It was wonderful; absolutely hot, sensual, and erotic to have a threesome with Jack and Jack. I especially liked the prolonged show he put on for me when he and his copy simply had sex with each other, performing Sixty-Nine with incredible enthusiasm.

What I loved best, though, was that before he’d put the sash on, Jack had set up cameras to film the entire thing to add to our home porn collection. >=]

When Jack finally took the sash off and the duplicate was reabsorbed into his psyche, I pulled him against me and kissed him, thanking him fervently for the gift of himself times two.

I am so sore now I can barely move and I’ve smoked every cigar I had (I shall have to acquire more), but it was worth it.

So very, very, _very_ worth it!


	221. Friday, August 14, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 53 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: One really wonders if they _need_ to exist.  
Cupcakes: 4

  
There was a bit of a scare today in that Jack’s head exploded.

Not literally, but he has some sort of… _thing_... event? Episode? Disease? Symptom? I don’t know, but he _has_ it and it is called “Exploding Head Syndrome.”

Ah! Syndrome! That was the word. I was confused, because it is the same name applied to that evil genius character in the move _The Incredibles_ that he likes so much.

It is possibly why I didn’t believe him when he explained it to me, but he pulled up medical proof and such on the Internet plus showed me his own medical records.

I found out that my Consort has this head exploding thing this morning. We both woke up early and, despite being tired and still sexually sated from the wonderful sexual antics of the night before, we couldn’t leave each other alone.

We were kissing and it was _good_ and the next thing I know, Jack’s teeth had clamped down on my lower lip and torn it open. He, himself, had gone rigid and shuddered while staring with wide-open, blank red eyes and hyperventilating.

I pried him off and was so very close to teleporting him straight into the middle of a hospital emergency ward, but he finally calmed down enough to try to explain what had just happened.

It happens occasionally with severely stressed or severely fatigued individuals, but the sufferers of this condition will “hear” a frighteningly loud noise in their mind, will “see” a bright flash of light, and are absolutely terrified that their head just blew apart like a bomb and their gory remains are spattered all over. It takes sufferers of this condition a few moments to realize that they are, indeed, still alive.

According to Jack, who is no longer stressed after a few days of pampering but _is_ severely fatigued, it sounded/looked/felt like a bomb had gone off in his head or that his head had been taken off by one hit from a shotgun.

Considering that he was so frightened that he _tore my lip open_ with his _teeth_ , I have no choice but to believe such a thing occurred since I saw and heard nothing at all when the incident occurred.

Spicer has been asleep most of the day and is asleep even now. I am going to make certain he gets _plenty_ of rest from now on, if only to spare myself bodily mutilation.


	222. Saturday, August 15, 4707

  
Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 53 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Hmm.  
Cupcakes: 5

  
How many times am I going to have to tell Katnappé to leave my minion alone?

Today, she came over to work on the Tech Lotus Twister with Jack some more since he was in no condition to do it yesterday. While they were working, she put the idea into Jack’s head of grafting on big, leathery wings not unlike the gargoyle creature from the cartoon show Jack likes.

My Consort, being a flier, naturally fell in love with the idea and came to me asking for permission.

I went tearing down to the lab and screamed at Katnappé about her obsession with mangling my Consort’s body. She _is_ obsessed! She sees a “blank canvas” to work with and can’t leave the idea of changing him alone!

She _will_ if she wishes to _keep_ her tail!

The nerve of that wench… her sheer stupidity! It boggles my mind. She considers Jack to be “boring” and “mundane” because there are no animal parts anywhere on him, for which I am thankful. I have never been into bestiality and I never will be. As it is, I can only just tolerate _her_ damnable tail and ears!

Grah… the stupid bitch makes my head hurt!

However, I was rewarded for my tantrum today. Jack has it in his head that my declaring a lack of interest in having sex with animals means that I shall never have sex with Katnappé again. Considering the staggering amount of cupcakes he baked me _and_ the sensually whorish things he did to me in bed tonight as a reward, I’m loath to correct his misinterpretation. I’m reasonably certain that I shall have sex with Katnappé again at some point. She is the only _attractive_ female around that has knowledge of the Heylin and my particular brand of existence, and I also know that she greatly enjoys having sex with me. Therefore….

Still, I should find a way to let Jack know that though I do _prefer_ him, I shall make use of Katnappé when I need a woman.


	223. Sunday, August 16, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 53 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Doing nothing of interest.  
Cupcakes: 9

  
The “needing a woman” thing might happen sooner than I had thought it would. I can’t seem to get the thought of fucking Katnappé out of my head.

Jack is being insufferably smug and she is putting up with it surprisingly well. I can’t say as I mind too awfully much, since it keeps her around longer, and she’s insisting on dressing in somewhat normal clothing while working for/with Jack. She is wearing skirts that allow me to see her long and shapely legs, for instance.

I shall try to hold off on having sex with her for a few more days. Jack is in a very good mood and I’d like that to last as long as possible.


	224. Monday, August 17, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 53 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Nothing going on.  
Cupcakes: 10

  
I'm going to acquire emphysema at this rate, but it might be worth it.

Today was a sex day. All day, all with Spicer.

We added _several_ videos to our "home movie collection."  >=]

I am pleasantly exhausted. Where is – ah. There he is.

Even as I watch him slide beneath the covers on what has become "his" side of my bed, I find myself thinking it is both so right and so strange that he even _has_ a side of his own, and that I do not sleep comfortably anymore unless he is there in it.

Still, now that he _is_ here, I can finally get some much needed rest.

After I finish consuming the snack that Jack brought me. Such a thoughtful Consort; mindful of the calories I burnt off during our activities today!


	225. Tuesday, August 18, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 53 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: N/A  
Cupcakes: 6

  
Jack pleases me a great deal. I know I've said it before, but this bears repeating:

He is the best Consort I have ever had.

Today, I fucked Katnappé. I have been wanting to rut a female (and she is the only one I'm currently interested in) for roughly a week, now. Today, I saw her walking down a hall away from me, heading back toward Spicer's lab. She was wearing a slim black skirt that hugged her curves and I decided to follow suit.

I had her first up against a wall. She tried to refuse me because she didn't want Jack to fire her. However, after I had accepted her refusal and walked away, I heard a frustrated "Wait!" behind me. I stopped, looked over my shoulder, and she was pulling up her suddenly loosened skirt with a very avaricious look on her face.

"Don't care if he fires me," she muttered as I pressed her up against the wall, lifting her thighs up around my waist. "So worth it!"

She's right, I am. >=]

I sated myself on her for roughly three hours and then let her go again.

I kept covert tabs on the laboratory for the rest of the day. Jack made her pay for having sex with me. He docked her salary and disgraced her by making her trip twice.

Yet, when we saw each other later... he never let on that he knew I'd been with Katnappé. He was as charming and courteous to me as he usually is, and never shied away from the caresses I gave him. I didn't have to ask; it was more than obvious that though he knew what I'd done, he also knew that if he complained about it, he'd quickly be removed from my life.

He has made his choice to serve me and he does it so very well.

I never thought I would say this, but I am quite lucky to have found Jack Spicer.


	226. Wednesday, August 19, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 53 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Blah.  
Cupcakes: 3

  
Despite being the best Consort I ever had, Spicer has an absolute _knack_ for rubbing me the wrong way so _very_ easily.

All it takes is a relaxation of his mental guard. That happens, and I am treated to mental diarrhea that frightens and annoys me.

The dratted fool _still_ wants to have sex with me in my monster form!

He seems to know, logically, what will happen to him should we attempt it. He'd be left as a bloody pile of meat by the time it was over... and I'm not certain I would hesitate on consuming the meat to replenish my energy!

Ugh... my stomach hasn't roiled so viciously with nausea ever since he told me about that vile sexual deviancy called a "Louisiana Hotpocket."

I avoided him most of the day, trying to sort the whole sordid mess out in my mind. I was debating about whether or not I should release him as Consort or keep him, because it seems that no matter how I feel about it, he is not going to stop wanting me in my monster form.

Then, he came to me and explained that he knows what could happen, that he knows I am against it and will not ever have sex with him while I'm "dragony" (as he puts it), and that it is simply a fantasy of his - one I am not expected to fulfill so long as I am very much against it.

And that easily, Jack proved once again that he is absolutely perfect as my Consort.

I proved how pleased I was with him by taking him to bed and turning him into a hoarse-voiced, sated, unconscious young man by having my wicked way with him. >=]

I have to admit that I am still uncomfortable with the knowledge that he'd gladly risk his life and his body to have sex with my monster form. So long as Jack continues to not press the issue, however, I suspect we'll get along well enough.


	227. Thursday, August 20, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 53 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Foolish.  
Cupcakes: 7

  
Something that has surprised me tremendously today is how angry Spicer is over a villain apparently getting away with murder.

Abdelbaset Ali Mohmed Al Megrahi, the Libyan who bombed an airplane flight in the late 1980s, has been released from his life imprisonment in Scotland because he has prostate cancer. Of course, he's said to be "terminally ill with a life expectancy of less than three months." He'll probably live for years.

That Jack is so upset about it is strange. I should think he'd be all in favor of evil winning the day, but he's incredibly upset about the fact that someone who did something so heinous and was supposedly going to die in prison for his crimes is being set free on account of having "ass cancer," as he puts it.

As he hasn't really taken the time to explain it to me, I am going to guess it isn't that evil is "winning," so to speak, but that he can't understand the seeming illogical inconsistency of the authority figures.

It's fairly straight forward. The authority figures are trying to make themselves look like compassionate and noble people in the face of any bad press they get about it. If Jack asks, I'll explain it to him as "They're doing what the monks always do: pretending to be pure-hearted and good."


	228. Friday, August 21, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 53 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Still nothing. Considering removing this section until something happens on that front.  
Cupcakes: 22 (replenishing my strength)

  
I am so sore I can barely move.

Jack, having spoken with the press earlier today about plans for his company, was asked about contemporary news items including the release of the Lockerbie Bomber. Jack being Jack, he let his opinion out over the airwaves.

Governments have mobilized to put the cancerous Mr. Abdelbaset Ali Mohmed Al Megrahi _back_ into prison. They're terrified that if Jack is distracted or distressed too awfully much, he won't build them shiny new save-the-world toys.

Jack being Jack, he is "tripping" on a power high of such magnitude that _I_ am worn out from the sex he has demanded.

I am going to go soak in the hot tub and alternate with an ice pack to my groin muscles occasionally. My warriors will simply have to hand-feed me for a while.


	229. Saturday, August 22, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 53 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Cupcakes: 2

  
I very nearly murdered Katnappé today.

I went down to the lab to invite the two hard-working scientists up to lunch, pleased as I had been with both of them lately.

I found my Consort backed into a cabinet, pinned in place by the much-stronger Katnappé, and being molested against his will.

Gods help me, but I cannot decide if I'm angrier that Jack was practically being raped right in his own home or that someone else tried to have sex with _my_ Consort.

Suffice it to say, Katnappé is _again_ persona non grata around here. Again, it is due to the fact that she has no concept of sexual manners whatsoever. For someone supposedly a genius, she is nearly a certified moron.

Spicer managed to infuriate me briefly. When I asked why he hadn't called me for help (yes, he has been training with Omi, but he is still outclassed by a modified humanoid with enhanced senses, strength, and agility), he said he didn't think I'd care.

For a few heart-stopping moments, I believed he thought I would have carelessly allowed him to be violated so shamefully.

When I queried him on it, he modified his answer to say that he assumed I would _want_ to see the two of them having sex. While I admit it is a pretty picture, I _know_ that Spicer cannot tolerate the thought of sex with a woman. Forcing him to fuck a female would be rape; end of song. I do not allow rape to happen to me, my minions, or anywhere on my territory.

I quickly explained to Spicer about my being angry at unauthorized Consort-molesting as well as the fact that Katnappé had not been taking "no" for answer. Jack was entirely too pleased at this display of the high esteem I hold for him and went to his knees in front of me.

Oh, knees... mine are still a little weak whenever I think about the sweet, hot, dirty things his tongue did. >:3


	230. Sunday, August 23, 4707

  
Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 53 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Cupcakes: 8

  
Due to yesterday’s incident with Katnappé, Jack has taken it upon himself to hammer it home to the world at large that he will not now, nor will he ever, have sex with a woman. Not only that, he will not be donating his potential powerhouse sperm so the world can grow more geniuses to do all the hard work for them.

I hate to use the expression, but he really did set the cat among the pigeons with _that_ little press conference.

Servers are overloading all around the world as they field hundreds of thousands of e-mails from complete strangers and people in power, promising anything and everything if Jack will simply allow his sperm to settle on fertile soil a few times. Alternately, people are threatening all and sundry if he keeps on with his foolish plan to stay decidedly child-free.

I have instructed my warriors to keep close tabs on him. Stone has already dropped by and informed his little brother what an idiot he is and that he’d better upgrade his robots’ security, and I do believe I should have a chat with Negriss and Finnian to also keep close to Jack if possible.

The world and all of its selfish inhabitants have discovered a miracle in Jack’s genius mind and robotics mastery. They will not take the potential loss of his creativity lightly.


	231. Monday, August 24, 4707

  
Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 53 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Cupcakes: 1 (nauseated)

  
 _Never mind about asking Negriss or Finnian to do anything right now_. They have other things to worry about…

Their _children_ , for example.

Lords, gods, and evil deities help me, but the Naga decided to impregnate himself with his lover’s (Finnian; yes, the _rat_ Finnian!) DNA. Eggs have been laid and Finnian is keeping them warm with his body heat.

What will the offspring look like? Will they be half-rat, half-snake? Were-creatures? Snakelings? Ratlings? What will their prey be?

Spicer and I are both incredibly unnerved by this.


	232. Tuesday, August 25, 4707

  
Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 53 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Cupcakes: 9

  
Spicer continues on his quest to become as reproductively sterile as possible. He has also decided to help the rest of the world with achieving perfect anti-children (and pro-children) status.

Even as I write this, instead of being in bed with me, Spicer is squirreled away in his laboratory working on a series of nanobots that will render a person either perfectly sterile or perfectly fertile. Currently, he is working on the sterility ones first.

I can only hope that he finds volunteers to test the bugs first rather than use himself, given how eager he is to be rendered reproductively inert, so to speak.

Well, if I cannot have my Consort directly, I shall have him _indirectly_. Which of his “personal gain” videos shall I watch tonight?


	233. Wednesday, August 26, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 53 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Cupcakes: 7

  
Spicer is unconscious beside me in bed, snoring enthusiastically in his well-earned rest. I am largely supine myself, considering the acrobatic sex that finished only moments ago. >=]

Jack told me that the “Baby Nazibots” (Why do I let him name things?) are well under way and that he produced a sperm sample for the bugs to test in a controlled setting. He let me know that he’s already had his Jackbots send out advertising calls inviting interested volunteers to show up at the Spicer Tech building to be used as lab-rats for the next phase.

I don’t need supernatural powers to foresee a line of men wrapping thrice times ten around the building, blocking traffic and drawing attention.

Speaking of attention, I wonder if Jack has considered the flak he’ll catch from the religious right wing? He is, after all, interfering in “God’s plan” that people grow up, want only heterosexual sex, and make babies. He is interfering _big time_ by giving people a choice as to what they’re going to do with their bodies.

The religious right do not tolerate free will and choice very well. I think I’ll send Stone a warning to be on the lookout for any militant religious fanatics. If the insane idiots do actually show up and start causing trouble, Stone will undoubtedly enjoy giving them a taste of the fires of Hell. >=]


	234. Thursday, August 27, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 53 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Cupcakes: 5

  
Spicer has spent the day at his company building, interviewing and testing the volunteers for his sterility nanites. I will find out how it went when he returns. For myself, I took off to Cuba to get some more cigars (Jack's presence in my life has depleted my collection sooner than anticipated), some raw sugar cane, and then bounced around the world for other things that have caught my eye.

For instance: I found a beautiful flat link necklace made for a man. The links and catches are made of hematite, and every flat link holds a small ruby or diamond. It is as though someone took Jack's colors and made them into a necklace for him.

Naturally, I have acquired it for him. I shall save it for a special occasion, despite wanting to see him wearing that and only that the next time I fuck him. >=]

Ah... I sense the arrival of my pretty lover. I wonder how his day has been?


	235. Friday, August 28, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 53 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Cupcakes: 7

  
The past 24 hours have been excellent.

Jack came home to "test drive" the nanites. He injected himself with them, and then had sex with me for _hours_ to determine whether or not his libido had suffered a grievous injury.

I let him know that I had smoked four cigars for a _very_ good reason when he inquired if the sex we'd enjoyed had been lackluster in any manner. Oh, far from it! Especially that last round... the way he clawed the sheets and bucked back against me; the way I came so hard it _hurt_...!

Oh, no, Jack... the sex was perfect. >=]

He made me laugh, though. I'd wondered why he'd gone to the trouble of rendering himself sterile and he let me know that he wasn't taking any chances with where his sperm ended up and what it did. Then, he told me that life is a world-wide sexually-transmitted disease; cue the laughter.

Because I was in such a good mood, I couldn't resist - I had to have him again.

I'm so glad I stocked up on more cigars. >:3


	236. Monday, August 31, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 53 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Very, very, very, VERY foolish.  
Cupcakes: 2

  
As nothing of exceptional importance has occurred over the last couple of days, I felt no need to scribe my thoughts and experiences. What could I say that wouldn’t have been a notification of mundane existence? “Woke up, had sex, ate food, trained with warriors, had more sex with Spicer when he got home from screening female volunteers for sterility nanites, had more food, had sex-sex-sex.”

I rather thought not, so I didn’t bother.

Now, though, I have something to write about.

Spicer was abducted today – by the monks, no less!

It seems that Tohomiko’s father is on good terms with people in the Japanese government – one of several in the world that are keeping close tabs on Jack. They mentioned casually to him that Spicer was planning to render himself sterile and how disastrous that would be to the human race to lose future potential genius. Tohomiko-san then mentioned it to his daughter when next they talked. Kimiko mentioned it to her friends and _that_ was when Pedrosa came up with his ever-so-brilliant idea to deliver Jack to a coalition of global governmental agencies so they could extract his semen before Jack could sterilize himself.

Too late, true, but that it happened _at all_ … hmmm. I was less than pleased.

I discovered the plot when I could find no trace of Jack anywhere in the palace earlier today. Diol sniffed around and reported to me the scent of the monks, but primarily Pedrosa. Naturally, I was over at Guan’s temple rather quickly. I tore the place apart, burnt it and blasted it in sections here and there, and beat away any attackers as if they were nothing while I worked at running Pedrosa to ground.

The idiot boy actually tried to take to the air to lose me. I teleported up behind him and then punched him down to earth again. The only reason he survived is because he was still conscious enough to form an air barrier around himself and Bailey turned the landing site to mud.

Pedrosa was quick to tell me where Jack was after I started threatening to pull various parts of him off a little bit at a time. As I left, Guan was tearing into his student for being a stubborn, thick-headed moron. How many times is it going to take before Guan realizes that Pedrosa _cannot_ be trained to not do things like this? He belongs on the Heylin side.

I had to resort to using the Eagle Scope and the Fountain of Hui to find Jack, but find him I did. I saw what was being done to him and… I think I lost my mind, briefly. I haven’t been that enraged in a very, very long time. The last time I was that angry, Krakatoa was almost vaporized in 1883 and the death toll was roughly 120,000 people.

I haven’t quite figured out how I’m going to make my displeasure known on a larger scale just yet, but it will be spectacular.

No one is allowed to rape my Consort and get away with it. I don’t care that the “worst” that happened was some woman forcing her mouth on his cock; it was still undeniably against his will – considering that Jack was _tied to a chair and blindfolded!_ – and I will not tolerate such a gross attack on his person.

As it was, when I teleported into the room he was being held prisoner in, I tore apart his bindings as if they were mere tissue paper. That they were made of some of the strongest metal on Earth did not matter. The woman that had tried her level best to get him hard and then get him inside her so she could get his seed had backed away, all the way up against a wall and was staring at me as if I was her worst nightmare, proving herself to be not entirely stupid.

I held Jack against me, protecting him as he shuddered with fear and nausea, and quickly informed his captors that they had brought down the wrath of a terrible danger upon themselves for daring to take my Consort. Despite telling them that if they know what is good for them then they’ll never touch Jack again, I _still_ plan on torturing them all to madness before killing them.

After my little speech, I set the room ablaze with a snap of my fingers and then teleported away – leaving the door, the only means of entrance and exit to the room – sealed shut with no hope of opening it, no matter what they tried.

Spicer’s rapist is leaving that room in a vacuum cleaner.

The first thing I did when I got him home was bathe him.

I stripped us both, got us into the shower, and bathed him from his hair to his toes. I thoroughly cleaned his crotch, until I could smell nothing but wet, musky Jack Spicer. He had become hard as I touched him and the sight of it pleased me. He was not so traumatized that he would suffer sexually.

I went to my knees before him and took him into my mouth. His hands dug into my hair and he watched me avidly the entire time as I did what that dirty female could not: I made him beg and whimper for more. I made his hips buck, fucking my mouth with his cock in masculine excitement. I made him come screaming as I swallowed.

Jack collapsed down against me even as I stood and he kissed me deeply, sharing the flavor of himself with me even as he begged for me to fuck him for hours. I took him to bed, slicked him open, and thrust deep into him; hard and long and slow. He clawed my back as I took him, as I mastered him. He gave himself to me utterly and I took everything he had to give because Jack Spicer is **_MINE_**.

I fucked him hard and came just the same. By then, he was wildly aroused again, ready to come. His excitement communicated itself to me and I did the impossible – I stayed hard! I rolled to my back and he went with me. Jack straddled my hips and rode my cock, fucking himself on me. He was glorious in his desperate sexual need! His skin was flushed pink and damp with sweat, his hair a ruffled red mess, his slender body straining for completion…!

I am aching with arousal even as I write this, remembering it.

We wallowed in bed for hours. Jack needed to be fucked by a man; needed to feel a hard cock in his mouth, a hard cock fucking his ass and coming inside him. I was perfectly content to oblige his need. >=]

We slept for a bit, and then, we went to Guan’s damaged temple.

Jack backhanded Tohomiko, punched Bailey, and all but destroyed Pedrosa’s nose in the strike he landed against the Brazilian thug. I have never seen such hatred before as I saw on Jack’s face when he laid into Raimundo. Whether he is aware of it or not, Pedrosa has made a mortal enemy in the form of Jack Spicer.

Spicer stopped there, though the monks would have retaliated. I stopped them, having gone along because I am simply not willing to let him out of my sight any time soon and because I know these children. They do not take being put in their place well.

I let them know that after what they had done they were lucky a strike to the face was all they were suffering, and then took Jack home again where we proceeded to break into the alcohol vault and get roaring drunk. Rather, _he_ got roaring drunk; I kept the drinking to a minimum simply so I could take care of him.

Now, he’s passed out beside me in bed—ah. No, he is not. I just glanced down and he is awake and staring at me with a very naughty look in his beautiful red eyes.

Oh… yes… I had forgotten, somehow, about his newly developed Consort Sense. Ah, _yes_ , Jack, curl your tongue _just_ like that… and now _suck_ , delicately, only the very tip… very good; very, _very_ good!

And now, he is climbing astride me. He is reaching back with slick fingers, using the lubricant he’d stashed beneath his pillow. He is beautiful as he enjoys the sensation of being stretched and flexed open.

Now, he places himself over me and sits, carefully, taking me just a tiny bit inside and _oh, yes_ he is so hot and tight around me…!

He has seen me writing and annoyance crosses his face.

  
Jack: What are you _doing?_

Me: I am chronicling this moment.

Jack: *sits down on me further and tightens around me, spurring a ragged growl from my throat* You’re writing about me fucking myself with your cock even while I’m doing it?

Me: Yes!

Jack: So… kinda like… making a home porn vid only on paper?

Me: *teasing him* Would you like me to add graphic illustrations? Perhaps the way you look to me as you ride me, or maybe while in the throes of ecstasy as you come?

Jack: *pushes himself all the way down onto me, his hips rolling urgently in motion even as he takes me fully inside* Fuck, Chase, the way you talk…! Fuck, yeah, that’s so hot. You can draw? I’d like that. I’d like to see that. Later. I just want you, right now, I want you _so fucking much…!_

  
It seems my beautiful boy needs me. I believe I shall answer the call to duty. >=]

 **Edited to Add** **:**

 ****It is now about three hours later. Jack is once again very much asleep beside me and I am finishing a delicious cigar. It does not taste as good as Jack does, but then again, I don’t think anything could match my Consort.

Hmmm… I wonder if there is a way to make a Jack-flavored cigar? Ah, well; it isn’t a terribly urgent need.

For now, I promised Jack a special treat:

[ ](http://s15.photobucket.com/albums/a359/Silvarbelle/?action=view&current=sexing.jpg)


	237. Tuesday, September 1, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 53 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Hopefully the last of their shameful breed, soon!  
Cupcakes: 8

  
I did some thinking when I woke up this morning. Spicer, naturally, was still asleep. I left him in bed despite wanting to wake him up for a round of slow and sensual morning sex. I do not much appreciate morning breath, however, and after the copious amounts of alcohol and semen we both ingested yesterday, I was not ready to experience that taste in my mouth twice; my own _and_ his!

I left him sleeping, went for a workout, and during morning meditation, I thought of how Jack can truly get revenge on the monks for what they did to him. No sooner had I finalized the plan in my mind but I sensed his arrival in my private garden. I opened my eyes as he came near and was greeted with a deep kiss from my Consort. He kissed me with lush devotion (his breath freshly cleaned, thank all the gods!); curled his tongue sweetly around mine and essentially made love to my mouth, to use a saccharine term.

When he finally allowed me air again, I smirked up at him while he grinned down at me and thanked me for everything I did for him yesterday.

Me: Oh, believe me, Spicer, it was my pleasure.

Jack: *smirking* Mine, too – lots of times. Would you like me to thank you some more? *clearly taking note of my state of arousal*

Me: I do believe I would like another helping of your particular brand of gratitude, Jack. >=]

I then unfolded from my meditational pose. I leaned back on my hands and opened my legs, bracing my feet in the dirt. He went to his knees between them and tugged my loose trousers down just enough to give him access to my cock, and then covered it again with his mouth.

He sucked me unhurriedly, moving his mouth slow and wet and hot along the sensitive shaft. He took his time, clearly enjoying himself as he gave me pleasure. I think he particularly liked it when I wanted _more_ and took it. I rolled him onto his back, knelt over him, and bent my head down to watch as I fucked his mouth, thrusting in quick, shallow motion in and out while he flicked with his tongue. I came quickly, straining not to thrust hard and deep which would have choked him badly. He swallowed, but not fast enough and some of it trickled out to stain the corner of his mouth and his cheek.

To reward him for his beautiful service to my needs, I fucked him with my fingers while sucking him off. His screams echoed off the high rock walls of the garden. >=]

We cuddled for a bit, and then re-dressed ourselves. As we did so, I told him that his revenge on the monks would be sterilizing them with the nanites. He was confused, because he had no idea how he’d get them to agree to it, and that’s when I pointed out to him that his revenge would be focused in _taking the choice away from them_ – just like they did to him. If he had any problem with it on his own part, I asked him to do it as a favor for me, because I do _not_ want them breeding and making more Fake Good, powerful creatures that could potentially overthrow me.

Jack was delighted and agreed, all while calling me “babe.” I am not one for nicknames, but this one wasn’t as bad as some he is capable of conjuring up for me (Jack has a dreadful habit of naming things badly). I let it slide, though I did swat his backside hard enough to bruise him and called him “sweet-cheeks” as I ordered him to get to work.

I’m a trifle worried about how delighted he appeared to be at the name.

We have both spent the day being productive. He has sent off his Chameleonbot with the nanites to unwittingly infect the monks with sterility. I worked on fine-tuning plans to wreak havoc and revenge on the cretins that sexually assaulted my Consort. I may have to call on supernatural creatures, but I am anticipating using undetectable-by-any-human-means parasites to torment his captors into madness and suicide. The evil chiggers will cause such violent physical reactions as to provoke amputation. >=]

Ah… here comes my beautiful Consort now… and unbuckling his belt with a lascivious grin on his face.

Have I mentioned lately how much I love the fact that he is as randy as I am? Ah, wait! Before we get started, I must show him the drawing I promised him.

 **Edited to Add:**

 ****He _liked_ his gift.  >=]


	238. Wednesday, September 2, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 53 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Sterile, fittingly; animals should be spayed and neutered.  
Cupcakes: 4

  
I have been busy today, unleashing my vengeful plans on Spicer’s captors. Jack, himself, is unaware of my actions. I am using my Eye Spy Orb and magic to record every instant of torment they suffer as a surprise present for him later.

He has spent the day lounging and relaxing, utterly pleased with himself, life, the universe, and me especially. His contentment achieved perfection the instant Katnappé showed up and I unceremoniously kicked her out of the palace – literally. To Jack, I explained that I _do not_ take any assault whatsoever on _any_ of my minions lightly. That’s why I left Katnappé to struggle to save her life by clinging to the sheer sides of my mountain with her claws rather than splatter all over the landscape.

While I was out, Jack finished the programming on the _fertility_ nanites – a waste of time and resources as far as I am concerned – and then spent the day indulging himself in laziness. Omi tried to make him get up and train, but Jack locked him in a toilet and that was that. One of my warriors rescued the sodden furball just in time, but I must confess to being highly amused by the whole thing.

I have had thoughts of tormenting Katnappé for what she did to Jack, too. Oh, nothing too drastic. It seems she reacted to Spicer the way she did because she is drawn to confidence and power, and Jack has that in spades these days. I can’t fault her for wanting him, but I can be extremely dissatisfied with the way she went about it.

I’m having thoughts of asking Jack to let me turn him into a cat briefly. If I am correct, he’ll assume a tiger form – most likely, a white tiger. I am having thoughts of turning him feline and then dressing him in a stunningly beautiful collar and showing him off.

Katnappé will probably suffer a heart attack at the sheer _want_ she’ll be subjected to. I find myself pleased at the thought.  >=]

For now, he has acquired a movie made by independent filmmakers. It will be in theaters around the world fairly soon, which is how he heard of it, but he didn’t want to wait that long, so he contacted the filmmakers. He promised them robots to help with special effects for future films if he could have a copy of the movie _now_.

He received his copy immediately, of course.

It’s a “mockumentary,” according to Jack. It details a young human couple that are being tormented by a demon. The name of the movie is _Paranormal Activity_ and I am in the mood for being amused at the moment.

I think I shall join him for the watching of the film. First, though, snacks must be acquired.


	239. Thursday, September 3, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 53 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Let's not go to their temple. 'tis a silly place.  
Cupcakes: 9

  
Jack continues to surprise me with his vast amount of information that I do not know he possesses until it comes out.

This morning, for instance: Omi woke him up to ask for advice. I woke up the instant Omi entered the bedroom, but I stayed silent and still in order to eavesdrop. Jack tried to direct Omi to me to help in whatever conundrum the little lion was experiencing, but Omi insisted on requiring Jack’s help even as he confided that he will not try to escape from my control of him; his honor demands that he stays with me as atonement for his destruction of Jack’s body and mind.

Then came the surprising information.

Omi was pressing for advice and Jack began speaking of Right Action. It is number four on the Journey of the Noble Eightfold Path to Enlightenment for Buddhists like Omi. I used to be one, but as I have broken nearly every single “commandment” and then some, I suppose I no longer belong to that particular club.

Still, that Jack knew of Right Action - the second ethical principle that involves the body as a natural means of expression, in that it refers to deeds that involve bodily actions such as violence, fighting, sex… whatever the body can be used to accomplish. There are good things, there are bad things. For example: sex is good, but it can be bad if done in such a way as deliberately harms another person. Farming is good, but is bad if it is done at the expense of others’ well-being. Violence is bad, but can be used to save lives if necessary and never for taking a life.

Hearing Jack counsel Omi, speaking knowledgeably about Right Action, impressed me mightily. I would never in my life have suspected that Jack knew anything extensive about _any_ religion in the world, let alone Buddhism. It thrilled me to my core (and still does) that we have more common ground between us than I had thought; more things on which we can speak intelligently and understand precisely what the other is saying. He confuses me sometimes when he natters on about his robots; I lose his attention when I get too in-depth into explaining about meditation or battle tactics.

This, though… it is common ground between us. We share more than simply a mad passion for lots of really great sex and a need to torment the idiots of the world! That he used his philosophical knowledge to _also_ convince Omi of his duty and honor to stay bound to me…!

This pleases me immensely.

So much so that after Omi left the room, I let it be known that I’d been awake the entire time by rolling over and pinning Jack beneath me. I kissed him, declared myself thoroughly ecstatic with the entire episode and that I could never pick only one truly awesome part about the whole thing, and then fucked him.

He was still wet and loose from the sex we’d had prior to going to bed so it was easy to tug his thighs apart and push into him. His cock hardened between us, digging into my gut as I kissed him again and began moving inside him. I felt out of control as I thrust hard, in and out. I craved him so completely it felt as if I would die if I did not have all of him in that very moment!

Jack climaxed with astonishing swiftness beneath me, but I was not quite ready to do the same. I pulled out, put him on his hands and knees, and took him from behind. Despite having come, he pushed back against me eagerly, wanting to make it good for me, and good it very much was! I fucked in and out of him, moving hard, fast, and when I felt my orgasm rip up and outward, I pulled him tight against me and held myself deep and tight inside him as I came.

I had to rest for a few moments, but I constantly caressed and kissed him because I simply couldn’t leave him untouched, untasted. He had astounded me with this new knowledge of him, to the point I felt I needed to reacquaint myself with him.

I “reacquainted” with him for hours. >=]

He left this morning through a portal created by his Tech-GTC, growling about being hideously late, but the look he gave me as he left indicated that he didn’t quite mind the _reason_ for being late.

Speaking of late, it is rather late in the evening and I am uneasy at the fact that he has not come home yet. I shall pay him a visit, just to make certain nothing has befallen my Consort yet again.

 **Edited to Add:**

We are both home now and so wobbly on our legs we can barely move – not that we need to move much. My warriors can feed us and pamper us for an evening.

I arrived at Spicer’s building; in his office, actually. He never noticed my arrival. He was too busy reading a report as he paced his office. He was eating a cookie while he walked and read, leaving me a few moments to admire him.

He was dressed in black trousers, black shoes, and a black dress shirt with white pinstripes and a white tie. All of the clothing was perfectly tailored to suit his long and lanky frame that, thanks to the efforts of myself and Omi, has become toned with definitive musculature. He has the build of a long-distance swimmer, now, instead of a sagging beanpole. The cut of his clothes, the stubble darkening his white cheeks and chin, and his height have all emphasized something I was subconsciously aware of but hadn’t yet consciously acknowledged.

Jack Spicer has grown up. He has become a man, in form and status. He is no longer in that iffy age space of no longer a child, but not quite yet an adult. He is, despite bouts of immaturity, most definitely an adult.

A beautiful, desirable adult man.

I looked at him and knew, in that instant, that he will be mine forever. I don’t know how I’m going to accomplish it, but I must find a way to make him immortal. I do not want to part with him. I want him to be Jack Spicer, and be mine, until the end of time.

Even as I thought this while watching him, however, he became aware of me. He was startled, of course, but then welcomed me to his office. He invited me to sit in the lush chair behind his desk, offered me gourmet tea or coffee, offered me _control_ with every submissive word on his part. Instantaneously, automatic… done because he _wanted_ to. He wanted me to want to be there, he wanted me to like what he had to offer, he wanted me to be comfortable and content.

Really… was I supposed to leave him untouched?

I said nothing as I approached him. He was nervous, especially when I unknotted his silk tie and then tied it around his eyes. He got with the program soon enough as I ripped open his shirt and began sucking biting, bruising kisses onto his throat and chest.

He groaned and clung to me, the loose pages of the report fluttering to the floor where we stepped on them carelessly as I maneuvered him to his desk. I kissed him, muffling the noise coming from his throat; kept his attention on how hungry I was for him even as I unbuckled his belt and broke the fastenings of his trousers.

Jack made another eager sound and bucked his hips against me, relying on my strength to keep him from tripping and falling. I was delighted in his eagerness, but still, I had to ask if he was alright with this.

Jack: With what? Having office sex with you? Hell, yeah!

Me: With being blindfolded. After what happened—

He cut me off with a kiss and then insisted that he was perfectly alright with it. He _knew_ it was me touching him, _me_ that was about to fuck him. He could smell me, taste me, feel me, and hear me. He had no fears, no worries; only the anticipation of an orgasm so awesome that he’d have to have his desk replaced (his words, not mine).

Reassured by his trust in me, I continued with my plans.

I bent him over his own desk. On one end of the rather massive piece of furniture – huge, strong, made of hardened oak and purchased with sex-with-me in mind – was a plate that held the remains of a dinner he’d ordered. There was a tub of butter for the rolls he’d consumed, and enough left over for my purposes.

I dropped his trousers and boxers down around his ankles and paused to bite and kiss his hips; I do so love the shape of them. It’s as though they grew and shaped themselves into perfect planes to fit my hands.

When he was writhing and swearing, begging me to fuck him, I snap-magicked away my armor to a pile in some corner or another. I tore my gloves off, reached for the butter, and slowly stretched him open with it. He was very, very vocal in his appreciation of the sensation, even as I licked and bit the back of his neck in a show of dominance.

Then, when neither of us could wait any longer, I dropped my own trousers and underwear down. I slicked myself with my butter-greased fingers, took hold of his hips, and eased into him.

I fucked Jack over his own desk. He is the leader of his own organization, a leader amongst geniuses and scientists. He is the lord of his own domain, and yet I dominated him there in his own territory. What is even better is that he _begged_ for it. He _demanded_ that I fuck him hard and make him come all over his own desk. His voice displayed how eager he was to leave an obvious mess for the cleaning crew to take care of.

He begged me to make him take it, cried for me to make him come, to give him everything.

I complied, quite eagerly. >:3

It didn’t help matters that when we both came, screaming our bliss quite loudly, Stone heard it and thought his brother was being attacked. He burst in, throwing fire. I shielded Jack with my own body, barely even singeing but still annoyed at the interruption.

Still, the situation was somewhat comical. Stone stood there, gaping at the sight of his little brother bent over the desk while I stood behind Spicer with my cock very much obviously inside Jack. Then, Jack screamed at his brother to “get the fuck _out_ , thank you very much, Captain Pervo!”

I was hysterically amused, already laughing even as Stone left while demanding irately that Jack let him know he’d be in a “meeting” next time so he wouldn’t walk in on _that_ because who the hell needs to see Jack’s pasty white behind?

This may surprise you, Francis, but I get rather excited at the sight of Jack’s “pasty white behind.” It generally means I’m about to be treated to one or several spectacular balls-numbing orgasms.

Jack was angry, though, about losing the buzz on what should have been just such an orgasm for him. Oh, certainly, he left a large and indiscreet stain on the front of his desk, but the afterglow was interrupted by his dolt brother.

Mine was, too, so I felt it was my duty to try again.

I pulled out of him, squatted down, and licked him clean to get him in the mood again. Mission accomplished in record time! Then, the last of the butter was applied while he lay on his back lengthwise across the desk. I climbed on, settled between his legs, and fucked him hard and fast while he thrust up against me, his legs wrapped tightly around my hips.

We next used his chair much like we use my throne here at the palace. We then used his sofa and, finally, the very middle of the floor of his spacious office. He lay with his chest on the carpet and his knees up, keeping his backside and hips propped up, with his legs lewdly opened as far as they could go. He lay there, utterly supple and compliant, the only sign of tension being the way his fingers had dug rigidly into the luxurious carpet as I fucked him like a whore in his own office until he stained the carpet with his come.

When we were done, and I knelt on trembling legs and panting roughly for breath, Jack managed to turn himself around so he could clean me with delicate little licks of his tongue that nearly drove me insane with painful pleasure.

And so, we came home. I am exhausted still, and full now thanks to my warriors feeding us. Jack is curled up against me, also full from his own snack. We’ve each consumed about three gallons of water – or, in Jack’s case, that noxious blue fluid he likes known as Gatorade – and all is well.

Although, he _is_ giving me a look that makes me wonder if we’re about to dehydrate ourselves again.

What does it say about me that I am hoping we are? >=]


	240. Friday, September 4, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 53 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Cupcakes: 17

  
Today, he rewards me for the spectacular sex yesterday with treating me like a Tootsie Pop, only no _licking_ was involved.

Instead, Spicer worked to discover just how many "Crikeys!" and random Australian-accented words it would take to make me lose my temper.

After about the thirtieth "Crikey!", I gave in and whapped him upside the head.

I take back every nice thing I ever said about his seemingly boundless, Trivial Pursuit-winning knowledge.

He is driving me _crazy!_

Pest.

Pest, pest, _pest_.

Just for that, I'm going to go finish off the last of the cupcakes and make him bake me _more_ of them.

If I find _one_ crocodile or stingray design on _any_ of them, I am going to drop him into the waters off the coast of Australia and let him duke it out with the Great Whites!


	241. Saturday, September 5, 4707

  
Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 53 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Cupcakes: 3

  
Today has had its ups and downs.

Ups:

~ Jack took me on a date. We went to London to see a play called _Fucking Men_ ; basically, a play about gay male relationships, gay rights, and stereotypes. It was amusing, interesting, and casted by supremely pretty young men – though none of them could hold a candle to either myself or Spicer.

~ We went to dinner afterward at a rather pleasing restaurant known as the Dean Street Townhouse. I had a warm rabbit salad, black pudding, and scotch quail eggs along with a pint of Guinness.

Downs:

~ We were found by the paparazzi, who quickly proved to us that they had “incriminating” photos of myself and Spicer fucking in Jack’s office. Judging by the angle and graininess of the photos, they were located in a high rise a mere half-mile from Jack’s building. Telescoping lenses can easily cover that distance.

It seems that our private life is about to become very much public. While I do not mind terribly much about the world knowing it is I who commands and holds the beautiful, quixotic genius that is Jack Spicer, I am not that thrilled to have my naked backside paraded about for the perverts of the world to salivate over. Too, there are several photos of Stone blasting fire at us and me taking the hit without a scratch, as well as my armor vanishing from my body and reappearing elsewhere.

As Jack is well-known for not having any supernatural or mutant abilities, that leaves me. That, coupled with my attack on the government coalition that tried to harvest Jack’s seed against his will, has me wary that I am about to come under assault from a bunch of nosy humans who will decide that they must study me no matter what _I_ think about it. I am a relatively unknown entity, clearly powerful, and I hold Jack Spicer in my thrall.

I am, as the politically correct sheep of the world today say, a “person of interest.”

I am incredibly displeased that my privacy is likely about to be invaded, but the solution to that would be to dismiss Spicer from my life and vanish away to a new home – either action is not acceptable.

I suppose we’ll simply have to take each day and its’ challenges as they come.

Speaking of… here is my sexy and eager lover, wanting to spend some photograph-quality time with me.

Excellent idea! Spicer… do be so good as to set up the video camera. I’m in a mood to recreate those deliciously naughty photo scenes. >=]


	242. Sunday, September 6, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 53 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Cupcakes: 4

  
I must say, I do _love_ the fact that Spicer has learned subtlety. Not a lot of it, mind, but enough that he can pass insults right under a person's nose to cut their throats while they're still staring at him in confusion.

Spicer scheduled a press conference, naturally, because the world went mad at the fact that he was caught having sex. I was there with him at the event, largely because I expected some homophobic nut-job to lunge at him with a bomb, but it never happened.

The worst that happened was when a bunch of irate mother-types stood up to scream at him about being filthy enough to have sex. However, they had been operating under the assumption that he had done it in a public place where _anyone_ could see him (or, rather, us).

He screamed right back about how he had been on his own private property, on the top floor of said property, behind closed doors and minding his own business. He then went on to explain precisely how his privacy got invaded and how much he detests people who think they have the right to do so on a whim.

We're both willing to bet that governments around the world are going to be rounding up paparazzi left, right, and center to make them all behave in regards to Jack, _or else_.

Of course, someone had to question the display of supernatural abilities I had given. I was perfectly willing to stand up and shut the twerp down, however, Jack brought his new subtlety skills out to play whereby he informed them all that I had a mental disability. I was outraged; quite ready to slap him into a coma for that insult, until he proved that he was not aiming the barb at _me_ , but rather, at _them_.

He let them know that my "disability" was a complete inability to even stomach the thought of speaking to anyone with an IQ less than 70.

With that line delivered, we vanished quickly enough and now we're waiting for reaction to set in when the dunderheads finally clue in that they were all called retards. >=]

I am proud of Jack for his competent handling of a potentially bad situation. I believe I will treat him to dinner and I'm in the mood for extravagant seafood. I'm off to the coast of Maine to fetch some baked lobster pie.


	243. Monday, September 7, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 53 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Cupcakes: 6

  
This morning, upon realizing that Jack was dragging his feet about the fertility nanites for females, I made him get back to work on it. The sooner this project is completed, the sooner he may get back to work on the Tech Lotus Twister. While I am not particularly excited at the prospect of Katnappé once again being on the premises, they've been at work on this for a month already. Or has it been two months?

Either way, I would rather the Tech Lotus Twister be finished. There are plenty more Shen-Gong-Wu waiting in the wings. After all, our current relationship started because Jack wanted to improve himself primarily by studying things he doesn't know or understand that well to find out what makes them tick.

He knows sex _very_ well and he knows how to make _me_ tick, certainly - when he isn't ticking me off.

......I really did write that just now, didn't I?

 _Damn_ that pest! His flavorless puns are even starting to affect _me!_

I'm quite certain I'll have to do something to him for this. Unfortunately for me, my libido is at the front of the line and suggesting things such as flavored oils, silk ropes, and roleplaying – hardly a punishment, so far as either of us considers it.

Speak of the horny devil, here he is! Do I actually have to _be_ sexually aroused or merely have to think of sex in order to activate his Consort Sense? Either way, his timing is spookily accurate.

Not that I'm complaining, especially as he's walking through the door with a bowl of melted chocolate dipping fudge.


	244. Tuesday, September 8, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 53 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: Really, _what_ PMSing god or goddess decided creatures this _dumb_ were allowed to live?  
Cupcakes: 19

  
I am seriously beginning to wonder if I need to do some investigating into surreptitious deals made by any Xiaolin Monks, lately.

Anybody _that_ colossally stupid that is _still_ alive has to be getting outside assistance from somewhere.

Today began fairly normally - at least, what passes for normal for us. Woke up, cleaned up, had sex, cleaned up again, trained, had breakfast...

Katnappé, of course, came over to begin work on the Tech Lotus Twister again with Jack. I made it a point to stay out of sight. She might very well have become visibly aroused at the sight of me, which would have angered Jack and interrupted work production. Alternatively, she might have become visibly nervous and thus distracted Jack with amusement. Distraction is not needed right now, and so... out of sight, out of mind.

Until I sensed a Sheng-Gong-Wu activating - and for some reason, I am now thinking of Wuya and the violence of her reactions every time a 'Wu woke up. I haven't seen or heard from her in months. Where is she? What is she plotting? A rejected witch is a time bomb waiting to detonate. I shall have to look into the matter.

At any rate, I sensed the awakening of the Diamond Mirror. This is potentially fatal to myself and Jack should the monks get hold of it. A user merely has to point the Diamond Mirror's surface at their opponent and suddenly, the user has their opponent's own power(s) to use against him, her, or them.

That's all we need: three angry, uncontrollable bullies with the combined might of my powers, fighting prowess, strength, and Jack's genius mingled with my own.

I bolted to the lab, caught Jack, and teleported him to Pingdingshan because, unfortunately, our quarry was located smack in the middle of one of the local mines.

Chinese mining sites are notoriously dangerous. The caverns are prone to fill with gas, the fire retardation equipment supplied to the workers is faulty nine times out of ten, and the lack of plentiful ventilation means limited fresh air flow.

It was one of the reasons we were in a hurry to get in, grab the thing, and get out. However, we had to deal with the workers, who were having a fit at the sight of two strangers _not_ wearing work gear sneaking around in their tunnels. They were having panic attacks at being held responsible in case anything should happen to us.

They, however, are peasants and I am a Heylin lord. No matter the era, those with power can always sway the worker types. I calmed them down with carefully placed "You are annoying me, peasant!" tones and Jack smooth-talked them into helping us further. We described the Diamond Mirror and a few workers explained they'd seen the item and led us to it.

We were all set to leave when the Xiaolin Monks arrived.

Every hair on my head and the back of my neck went up. Every instinct I had was screaming that something terrible was about to happen.

There is a reason I listen to my instincts: they are _correct_ more often than not.

I teleported the Diamond Mirror to the palace an instant before Kimiko launched a ballistic fireball attack.

Yes, in an enclosed space filled with coal dust. Yes, of course there was a gas leak from mining equipment.

My ears are _still_ ringing from the vicious explosion that went off.

I spared enough of my power to keep the roof from collapsing in on us _instantly_. Any workers close to us were spared; the rest were shrieking and burning and dying in the wake of Tohomiko's stupidity. While it was dangerous to not simply teleport away immediately myself (with Jack in tow, of course), I stayed just long enough to ensure the monks would survive.

I want Tohomiko to live with the nightmares of people dying in horrific agony because of her brash idiocy. >=]

Jack, true to his own instincts, lunged for the nearest safe haven the instant the explosion occurred: me. He leaped and clung to me, screaming his terror.

He was still screaming when I took him back to the palace.

In relatively short order, I had the Diamond Mirror tucked away in a safe hiding place, Jack settled in his favorite chair in the parlor where we watch movies, and tea being made via my warriors to help him calm down.

The tea will also speed our healing because that explosion was _loud_ and we have taken to yelling everything we say at each other just to be heard over the ringing. Just as well that Katnappé was already gone by the time we got home. This would only have made her laugh at us and then I would have simply had to kill her and then the project would be delayed even further.

Gods above and gods below, but Tohomiko is _stupid_. The death toll of 35 people with 44 still missing shall attest to that.


	245. Wednesday, September 9, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 53 (the Lotus Twister on loan to yours truly!)  
Cupcakes: I haven't made any; we're going with muffins, today, hence...  
Muffins: 6  
Monks: _Neither_ of us are happy with those dickweeds.

  
So, before this gets started, I'd like to put down a reminder here that I was _asked_ to do the writing for my currently incapacitated overlord so if this reads weird, it was all _your_ idea, Big Guy.

Hey! At least I didn't use "Babe" again. Then, you'd have to get out of your bed, with your head all 'splody, and smack your bitch up just to teach me a lesson!

Right, so, anyway, now that I'm set up... transcribing Psycho Amazon Warbitch from Hell Thoughts _now_.

The monks must die. I take back any wicked scheming to make Tohomiko suffer crippling guilt for her actions. She has near crippled _me_ (Jack in: Whoa! Really????) with a migraine that could fell an entire drive of dragons—

What do you mean "what," Spicer? The plural for dragons in a group is "drive," not herd. They are not _geese_ , you nincompoop! They are ancient and noble creatures of wisdom - yes, Dojo and Chucky Chu being the exception - and are you going to take dictation or not? Also, before you get any cute ideas of making "dictator" jokes, keep in mind that I need not leave this bed to kill you.

Moving on: As I said, my head hurts, due entirely to the ringing of my ears. Because of the heightened state of my senses, my ears took a beating and my eyes, despite closing them swiftly enough, still absorbed enough of the flash from the burn-back that I see spots whether my eyes are open or closed. Visual and audio pain have combined to make my head feel like I'd spent days wallowing in the alcohol vault with some of that noxious black frog music--WHAT NOW, SPICER?????

Jack: *laughing hysterically* I'm sorry, but... BLACK FROG MUSIC?

Chase: You know what I mean! That noise the black community in America largely listens to! The hopping music!

Jack: *omggonnaDIElaughing!* You mean HIP-HOP?

Chase: Yes, THAT.

Jack: *on the floor, peeing pants*

Chase: *vigorously miming death with his strong, masculine hands*

Okay, okay... starting over! I've got myself under control and I got back into my overlord's good graces by fleeing to bring him some of the ugly cupcakes. He is amused by the nickname, but even more pleased with the hot chocolate chip muffin with butter melted all over it. And now... transcribing!

Spicer has not suffered nearly as badly in the hearing loss department because of his normal human senses. He is also taking excellent care of me. He has made me muffins – or, as he calls them, "ugly cupcakes." He is also making us some Heal-Me Juice, tailored to our individual DNA, that will speed up the getting well process for which I cannot thank him enough, brilliant and awesome genius hottie that he is (Jack in: Okay, yeah, that was me ad-libbing. >.> )

I have been informed that Katnappé came by earlier today, ostensibly to work on the Tech Lotus Twister, but as Jack (my ever-so wonderful and clever minion) has stayed largely by my – you're giggling, Spicer. Read it back to me. Yes, now!

.....Gods damn it, Spicer, stop masturbating your own ego for _five minutes_ , will you?!

Jack: It was just a little creative license!

Chase: You will find your license revoked if you get any more creative with _my_ diary!

Jack: Do you really call it a diary? That sounds so 13-year-old-girlish. Maybe journal? Or Ancient Draconic Records of A Heylin Warlord. Or—

Chase: Do you _like_ being my Consort? Enough to want to _continue_ being my Consort?

Jack: Shutting up.

Chase: *makes a sound that means his head is about to explode – and it can't happen soon enough*

Leaving aside Spicer's egotistical injections into this entry, I have found that despite my vulnerability, I am well-protected by not only my warriors, but by Jack as well. In spite of today's annoyances, I am comfortable in his care. Well done, Jack.

Jack in: Just so you know, Chase, that if you were well enough – I'd totally have blown you for that last bit. So you get a "rain check." Collect when you're feeling better. ^_~


	246. Thursday, September 10, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 53 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Monks: HA, Tohomiko! HA. >=]  
Cupcakes: 7

  
Mmmmmm. The cigar I am currently smoking is well-earned. How fortunate I was clever enough to think of bringing some with me when I went in search of Spicer to collect on my "rain check."

Thanks to Spicer's Heal-Me Juice, I recovered in record time. I even felt well enough to visit the Temple and engage the moronic bimbo of a Fire Dragon in a flame battle that I won easily. Naturally, I toyed with her first; made her think she would win... and then, burned all the hair off her head, real or otherwise. Her clothing suffered a similar fate and we all got to see how very little she has in the way of female development. Honestly, I've seen newborn infants with more breast tissue. As for her hips, they could be used as a carpenter's level, so very straight and narrow are they. No wonder Pedrosa keeps giving me Come Hither looks. If he's going to fuck a male-type figure, it might as well be the real thing.

Not that he's getting it from me, although I certainly wouldn't turn my nose up at the opportunity should it present itself. Pedrosa is a natural slut, just like my beautiful Consort.

The difference between the two of them is that when Pedrosa dies, I won't even blink. Jack... I have begun looking into ways of making him immortal alongside me. If I lose him, I will rip this world apart.

Gods damn it... how could this happen to me?

Too late to fret about it now. What's done is done. As a bonus, I get a Consort with the most _wicked_ tongue this side of a snake pit.

I read back through yesterday's entry to see if Spicer had told me _all_ of what he'd done. He hadn't fibbed a bit, and when I read it... well, I must admit, it _was_ amusing. He may just get to keep his creative license – especially if it means "rain checks" like the one I cashed in recently.

He was already waiting when I opened the door of his bedroom; waiting with a hot and sensual look in those lovely red eyes of his. He slid down to a position that had him supported by the edge of the bed, but crouching on his legs. The position looked painful, but he simply laid his head back and licked his lips while looking up at me.

In that instant, the instances that followed, I didn't care a damn if the position was painful or not. It put him at the perfect height and angle for me to lean slightly over him and slip my cock into his hot, wet mouth.

I fucked his mouth leisurely, taking my time as I looked down at him. His eyes were closed as he focused himself entirely on pleasuring me. I felt his tongue go caduceus – ‘round and round. I moved slowly in and out so he could suck, and _yes_ , he did. >=]

When I came, I lost all connection to awareness; focused entirely on my orgasm. Normally, I refrain from such a thing because I dislike being vulnerable. Jack, however, has proved that I may allow myself a moment or two of vulnerability with him because he will keep watch over me.

Awareness returned, and I found myself on the floor with Jack. I was kneeling, straddling his legs which had shifted to a stretched out position, and slumped against his torso. I moved so I could kiss him, wanting to taste him – and myself. He allowed it, even reciprocated the kiss eagerly. So much so that I could never have resisted fucking him even if I'd intended to.

We're in his room, curled up in bed together. I magick'd my diary to me, since I was loathe to wake Spicer just yet. He is curled against me, comfortable and serene. I like to look at him like this. I like looking at him, period.

Gods help me, but I fear I am doomed.


	247. Friday, September 11, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 53 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Cupcakes: 9

  
Today, I harassed Spicer by interrupting his own diary writings. He was not that amused, but he got the point.

In other news, more work was accomplished on the Tech Lotus Twister. I think it shall be completed soon. Increased muscular flexibility coupled with the fertility nanites shall see the world experiencing a population surge I am not that happy about. However! Spicer _will_ be asked to design and produce viable space-faring vehicles similar to those found on sci-fi shows, and so most of humanity will probably be convinced to take a hike into the far reaches of outer space, which thrills me to no end.

Get most of the humans off the planet, clean said planet, and pretty soon, this world will be returned to the paradise it once was.

Quite frankly, one of the Shen-Gong-Wu I would like to see Spicer work on is the Ryo Reverso. So much of the planet could be restored by using a fleet of robots outfitted with a technological version of it. Then again, there is a Shen-Gong-Wu that has not gone active yet, but I don't know when it will and it is foolish to wait for it. The Restorator Cultivator (yes, the Master Dragon that thought up the name _was_ on drugs at the time) has the ability to restore any broken or damaged thing to its pre-broken glory. Think of it! So much of the Earth that has been mined away can be restored, along with the minerals and gems that went with it. Whole forests can be returned to life, ancient species that have otherwise died out can be restored...

Then, too, there would be the trash elimination problem at an end. Something breaks...? No problem. Aim a Tech RC at the item and it is as good as new. No landfills, no expenses to maintain in having something repaired - and with more money to circulate through the human populations, they'll be able to afford getting the hell off my planet sooner rather than later.

Jack will make it happen once the thing goes active, I have no doubt. But, for now, it is only a dream.

In yet more news, Spicer and I have been invited to Foley's birthday party that his lover, Francis, is throwing him. It's a costume affair because nerds cannot resist an opportunity to play dress-up. I have stated that I will not allow either myself or Jack to wear anything embarrassingly stupid - hence his displeasure at my interruption of his diary writings and his threat of no sex.

Despite that, however, he wants us to dress up as sexy as possible without being tawdry. I am quite in agreement with that. Between the pair of us, we should be able to make at least one person at the party commit suicide in anguish at never being able to quench their desperate need to have us in bed.

Jack is running through ideas in his mind which, frankly, scares me badly. He is brilliant, but he hasn't much common sense sometimes. Personally speaking, I would like to dress us in either Ancient Chinese or Ancient Egyptian or Greek attire. We can easily pull it off, and thinking about all of that bare white skin on display has me aching to fuck him.

I find myself warming to the idea of the Ancient Egyptian theme, actually. I can play Pharaoh and he can play my Consort... and we might even be able to use a leash and collar if we take a few historical liberties. >=]

Speaking of my beautiful Consort, I see by his arrival in my room that his threat of no sex for daring to invade his diary was an empty threat, indeed.

Come here, Jack. Let me coax you out of your supposed snit. >:3


	248. Saturday, September 12, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 53 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Cupcakes: 8

  
Spicer mentioned to me today that he'd completely forgotten that yesterday was the eighth anniversary of the terrorist attacks on the United States using planes full of innocent people and suicidal Arabic madmen. To be honest, I hadn't taken note of the occasion, either.

I see no reason to get stirred up over the fact that sneaky little rats launched a successful, vicious, murderous attack on a young thug nation (the United States of America is only 200 years old; it is a mere infant of a nation compared to the rest of the world). While I do not admire the killers' tactics – honestly, how can they be proud of the fact that they essentially sucker punched the United States? – I have to admit they accomplished what they set out to do. They killed several thousand people, they destroyed beloved landmarks, and they pissed off and made paranoid an entire country of people. Bravo, well done... now, let's see them do it again, only _without_ hiding in their caves like wild animals.

Ah, well. I really do not care to dwell on it. It happened, it's done – moving on.

Spicer has taken to lurking around me for most of the day. He has watched me study grimoires and spells, and researching ancient texts preserved through magic. He has not yet sussed out why I am doing so. I want the immortality project to be a secret for now. I'd rather he stay focused on the Shen-Gong-Wu, and that will not happen if he finds out I am attempting to make him my Consort for eternity.

As it is, something about me being scholarly seems to arouse him unbearably. Given that the Albino with the Amazing Libido is usually ready to drop to his knees and suck me just because I am me, this is saying something that being scholarly revs his engine, so to speak. In the past four hours, he has attempted to seduce me into having sex with him right here and now, but I will not.

Intensely passionate sex surrounded by a vast archive of magic and spells is _not_ a good idea.

I may have to banish him from my personal library soon if he gets any more eager, lest I lose all sense and take him here. He is far too arousing for his own safety – or mine.


	249. Sunday, September 13, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 53 (the Lotus Twister on loan to Spicer)  
Cupcakes: 6

  
Honestly, I'd forgotten that Spicer has a pacemaker.

The subject came up tonight after he proved to me he'd unlocked the power of flexibility via technology. Oh, the sight of him with his mouth on his own cock... and then, arched in a perfect curve to brace his hands on the floor while his legs remained wrapped around my hips as I fucked him...!

I am _incredibly_ pleased with his newfound dexter—

Mmmm. Oh, I do like that. Yes, Jack, keep stroking me, nice and slow....

Before I lose all ability to think coherently, I will say that Jack has been cuddling in bed with me for a while now. He seems to think I "give great cuddle." I like to think that I do, since one should be pleasing to his lover in order to keep said lover wanting to have sex with him. Given that Jack noticed my spontaneous arousal at the memory of what we did earlier, and slicked his hand in order to better stroke my erection, I would have to say the proof is in that I am a terrific cuddler.

Gods, I'm not making much sense right now. Think fast, Chase!

Jack – when we could speak without using words like "Fuck, yeah" and "Suck _harder_ , Spicer!" – informed me of how the Tech Lotus Twister works. A thin patch adheres to the skin and emits a constant low-level of electricity. I muttered something about people with pacemakers not being able to use it, and that's when he reminded me that he has one. I was worried for a few moments, and then he took my mind off of it by sucking his own cock.

Still, when we could think clearly again, he said he'd have to check to see if the pacemaker is even working anymore ever since he got dosed with the Heal-Me Juice. If it isn't, will it come out? If it is... why? Why would the Heal-Me Juice have not fixed his heart in addition to his brain?

....................yesyesyesjackdothatg

ods _yes_ youdirtyfilthyslutloveyourtongueloveityoudirty _bitch_ iloveitiloveitilove

 **Edited to Add:**

It is now roughly an hour or so later – I think. It could be a day gone by so far as I know, considering how hard Jack made me come.

It seems he took exception to me still being able to think clearly, so he coaxed my thighs apart, got low and comfortable against the mattress, and then began licking _my_ opening. He had no intention of fucking me, which is something I would allow if he wanted it bad enough, but his only aim was to get me _wild_ with need.

It worked. >=]

I let him lick for as long as I could stand it, and then I had him face-down on the mattress so fast neither of us are sure if I teleported or not. I don't really care. All I know is that I was ramming into him, balls deep, and he was bucking up and back against me while gasping out how amazing I am, what a _god_ of sex I am, and yeah Chase do it _HARDER!_

I came so hard it _hurt_ – and this on top of the slight pain of becoming so swiftly aroused earlier when Jack first showed up to demonstrate the Tech Lotus Twister!

He's asleep beside me right now. He is the only one I know that can smirk in his sleep, but he does look very well satisfied with himself.

I want him again, right now, but then I'd have to wake him up, which I am loath to do.

It is different from any of my previous Consorts, I'd have woken them, fucked them, and then gone to sleep myself when I was done. There was one woman who tried to murder me in my sleep for doing just that – primarily because I'd left her unfulfilled. Naturally, she didn't stay another night.

Odd, but her spirit has haunted me occasionally. I haven't seen her since Jack became a permanent fixture. I know _he_ hasn't seen her, else I'd have heard about it.

Ah, well. The stupid bitch (whose name I can't even remember, but I do remember her breasts; gods, but they were glorious things!) is dead and gone. I am not, and I have a perfect Consort in Jack Spicer.

Am I the luckiest monster on this planet? Yes, I do believe so.


	250. Monday, September 14, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 54  
Cupcakes: 12

  
Spicer informed me that when he markets the Tech Lotus Twister, he'll tell people they have to have gotten the Heal-Me Juice first because anybody with pacemakers or metal plates/rods inserted in their body are going to set themselves up for trouble. It's either that, or make a bunch of pacemakers like the one he made for himself and tell everyone about it.

I am absolutely against the latter one. The _last_ thing he needs is for the whole world to know he has a pacemaker keeping his heart going—

That reminds me. Does he even need it anymore?

 **Edited to Add:**

I just checked with Spicer. He informs me that a scan has revealed that the pacemaker has become superfluous junk inside his heart; that it was rendered useless and inert when the Heal-Me Juice essentially brought him back from the dead. However, he doesn't want to have open-heart surgery just to remove a piece of machinery that is not doing him any harm.

I have a solution to that: the Serpent's Tail.

Providing he is amenable, I will use the Serpent's Tail to phase the pacemaker out of his heart. Naturally, this is a frightening prospect for him, but I have absolute faith in my ability to recall my lessons with the Serpent's Tail from centuries ago. Dashi set me the exercise of snatching a grain of rice from within a set of nesting jars. It took time, but I finally mastered it.

I shall practice for a few days, simply to make sure my skills aren't rusty. If Spicer says yes, then it shall be done. If not... I shall make certain no one gets wind of him having a pacemaker. It might not be necessary to keep his heart functioning, but I don't want anyone to make use of it as a means to _stop_ his heart, either.


	251. Tuesday, September 15, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 54  
Cupcakes: 2

  
I am tired and slightly frustrated.

Spicer has agreed to let me perform the pacemaker removal operation on him. As agreed, I have been practicing to fine-tune my control.

........Apparently, I needed the practice more than I realized. I shall be training all week long and have asked Spicer to make me several dummies with pacemakers for me to practice with.

No, he is not allowed to watch. It will only shatter his nerves badly... and his confidence in me.


	252. Wednesday, September 16, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 54  
Cupcakes: 5

  
The technique for using the Serpent’s Tail to snag small items from within larger items is returning to me. It has been several hundred years since I’ve used said technique, but when I learn a thing, it stays _with_ me.

I simply got a little rusty at using it.

I believe I shall be fully confident by the end of the week; either Friday or Saturday, although the birthday party is in two days. Speaking of that party, Jack has agreed with me on the Egyptian theme, thank all the gods.

He even treated me to a “preview” of his costume.

To see him slinking toward me wearing a loincloth, gold jewelry, his face painted up, and his collar while offering the leash to me…!

I took him on a little walk around the palace so we could practice subtle commands. A light snap of the leash to prompt him to walk – a pace behind and to my left; a snap and a soft clicking noise from my tongue to make him walk forward, a pretty decoration to be admired; a slight tug to bring him to a halt and two tugs to bring him to my side. A softly murmured “Down” has him kneeling prettily at my feet, leaning against my leg if he so desires.

Notice I say “leaning” and not “humping.” We had a bit of trouble with that one at first, as Jack wanted nothing more than to rub on me like a cat in heat. He was constantly slipping his hands up beneath the armor skirting that protects my groin. I allowed it only briefly. While I do enjoy the sensation of his fingers stroking naughtily between my legs, caressing my thighs or balls, it was still a training session so we may play our part of Pharaoh and Consort to perfection.

He finally acquiesced, learning the command. To reward Jack, I magicked away my armor and we continued to walk until, finally, we came to my throne room.

I sat on the throne and issued the Down command. He knelt before me, the very picture of pretty obedience as he kept his red eyes lowered in submission. Then, I taught him a new command.

I tugged on his leash and said quietly, “Suck.”

Oh, how fast his eyes lifted to mine! Those gorgeous red irises almost glowed with the strength of Jack’s pleasure at finally being allowed to touch me. It is an elation and a worry at how strongly he feels for me.

Jack nuzzled his way across my thighs even as his fingers deftly opened my trousers, baring me to him. Then, that talented tongue found my hard cock and made it very apparent that it is, indeed, good to be the king. >=]

Naughty fun was had for hours. When we were finally too worn out for much else, I carried Jack to bed and, as he fell asleep, whispered in his ear how much I approved of his concept of the costumes.

I kept it to myself that I’m surprised he did not wander back to Ancient Egypt to get authentic clothing, though. I didn’t want to give him ideas just as we were ready for sleep.

Perhaps this party won’t be too bad after all.


	253. Thursday, September 17, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 54  
Cupcakes: 1

  
It is currently eleven-something in the morning, but I cannot care too much about having such a late lie-in.

I woke up at my usual early hour this morning, but while I was finishing my shower, I heard Jack screaming my name from the bedroom. I slammed the faucet off, slid across the tile floor on wet feet, and caught the doorjamb to steady myself as I prepared to murder his attacker.

Instead, I found him on his knees in bed. He was face-down in bed, fucking into his own hand… still sound asleep! He was having quite the sex dream, coming hard in his sleep while shrieking my name!

I leaned against the door frame and watched, entirely turned on. He woke himself up with his screaming and, upon realizing he’d been dreaming, Jack looked around for me. He saw me standing in the door, watching him, and his cheeks burned hot pink; such a pretty color amid all that smooth white!

His embarrassment faded when I sauntered forward. He started to shift his position, but I growled an order at him to stay where he was. Still soaking wet from my shower, I crawled onto the bed and settled behind him. I bent, reaching beneath him to slick my fingers with his come even as I nibbled at the small of his back carefully. My teeth _are_ dreadfully sharp. It’s why I am careful to keep Jack’s tongue away from them when we kiss.

Back to the reason for the late lie-in! I used his own come to slick him open, then settled behind him, took hold of his hips, and slowly pushed in… just a little bit, and then pulled out again. I tortured us both with slow thrusts, pushing further in with every inward stroke, pulling all the way out when I withdrew. I kept the pace deliberately slow, ignoring his frantic cries to move faster, move harder. I took what I wanted from him and, just to torture him further, I described to him how perfectly _MINE_ he is.

I told him that he was made for my pleasure; that I had done _something_ to please the gods and so he was my reward. I told him that I craved being inside him and that I was going to come inside him – that his beautiful, perfect backside would service me as I saw fit.

Jack broke beneath me; sobbed and bucked back against me and came hard. The grip and pulse of him around my cock was too perfect to be ignored and I joined him in orgasm.

That was hardly the end of it. We fucked again, and then again, and one more time before we were simply too tired and fell asleep once more.

It is now mid-day and, despite being hungry, I am far too content to stay in the warm nest of sheets and Spicer to consider getting up just yet.

I do wish his skin could tolerate the sun. Something I have always enjoyed in the past is whisking away to a private place somewhere and curling up in bed with a lover, out in the warm sun. If I tried it with Spicer, he would fry to death within fifteen minutes. I should ask the Science Twins if they can create a sunscreen that would protect Jack fully without turning his skin disgusting with chemicals.

Hmmm. He cannot tolerate the full force of the sun, but perhaps a little moonlight cuddling in a warm location….?

Ah, well. We’ll figure it out eventually. For now, we must get up and use up some energy so we may sleep well into tomorrow, and be ready for the party tomorrow evening.


	254. Saturday, September 19, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 54  
Cupcakes: 10

  
The _look_ on Spicer's face when I deep-throated that popsicle...!

Ha! He is not the only sensually distracting, gorgeous young man that can interfere with work around here! >=]

I suppose I should start with the beginning. The party last night was a smashing success. Stone and his paramour were ecstatic with our gifts. Jack did not know I'd brought along a gift to give as well, but from one fire user to another, I had thought Stone might appreciate my notes – transcribed to modern English, of course – on how to enhance power, performance, and elegance in fire-dancing.

We arrived late, swathed in cloaks that covered us from head to toe. People were eyeing us askance, wondering at what folly we might be playing. I removed my cloak first, allowing everyone to see me. I wore a Nemes headdress in my colors (bronze, dark green, black, and dark red). The cobra, if one were to look closely, was actually a small replica of my dragon form's head.

Gold jewelry was braided or twined into my hair and my eyes were rimmed with kohl and gold shadow, my lips darkened slightly with rouge. I wore a gold wesekh collar that was significantly smaller than the Ancient Egyptians wore them, simply because Jack wished most of my physique to be on display. Instead of a pleated kilt that encased me from waist to knees, I wore a white pleated kilt that was specifically tailored to be split up the sides to just below my hips, allowing everyone to see my muscular thighs. Gold and leather sandals twined about my feet while gold and ruby jewelry decorated me from head to toe.

I was utterly glorious and people stopped talking to stare at me. I showed them all how beautiful I was, basking in the hungering gazes.

Then, as Stone and Foley started toward me, I snapped my fingers at my companion. Without hesitation, Jack shrugged his cloak away, revealing himself.

Stone stumbled to a halt, gaping. His blue-eyed lover wasn't in much better shape.

Jack was more minimally dressed than I was. He wore his hair loose to the middle of his back (helped along by a spell from me), into which was braided three thick ropes of obsidian and jet beads. One led straight back through the middle, starting from his widow's peak. The other two began at his temples and lined the sides of his face. Oh, his _face_....

His eyes were heavily done in black kohl and gray-and-lilac shadow, making the red irises seem to glow with demonic vibrancy. Pink blush delicately graced his cheekbones and his lips were darkened noticeably with rouge. Sleek, almost liquid-looking hematite and silver jewelry draped him from throat to toes; a perfect foil against his sleek white skin. Low around his hips, he wore my dark red sash. The eye symbol was covered by a royal lapis lazuli colored strip of cloth - just wide enough to easily stick through special glue to his thighs. The crack of his beautiful backside was covered by a similar strip of cloth.

His only other ornamentation was the silver collar (lined with red velvet to protect his skin) that visibly circled his neck, etched with Ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs. Only someone well-versed in the language could read the inscription: "Property of the Lord of the Land of Nowhere".

Stretching from the collar was a leash made simply of a long, delicate silver chain, fixed with a leather loop studded with rubies. Jack knelt on one knee and offered me the leash before all and sundry.

The few gasps that sounded in the room were heard in sharp detail as everyone else was deathly silent. >=]

I accepted the leash and flicked to get him onto his feet, and then issued the command to walk beside and behind as I went over to Stone and Foley. I bid them good evening, announcing myself as Pharaoh and Consort - only that, no names. I asked if Foley was enjoying his birthday so far; it took him a few tries to answer. Once he had, I then led Jack on a circuit of the room toward the food tables, very much showing him off... as well as my command over him. I had him get us food and drink. I ate and drank first, and then fed him, allowing him to eat from my hand. We put on a wonderful performance and it was only because of the potion I made us before we left that neither one of us broadcast to the room precisely how turned on we were.

We finally began mingling and, of course, Stone and Foley sought us out again. Stone was dressed a firefighter (going for the ironic joke) and Foley was dressed as some superhero or another. His friend from the United States, the one that had rescued Jack from the monks' semi-fatal attack, was there dressed as someone named The Green Lantern.

Jack gave Foley his present: a Tech Lotus Twister of his own and hinted at the flagrantly sexual uses it could be put to. Stone (already confused over being given a gift when it was Foley's birthday) nearly ruined Jack's decorations by grabbing him in a hug, but though Jack pushed him away, he was pleased enough to hug back, too.

He was also curious as to why I had given Stone a gift. It is, ostensibly, a gift for Foley as well. If his lover can fine-tune his control even further, then he shall certainly be able to protect himself and thus reduce Foley's anxiety for him. Too, dominant powerhouses like myself and Stone like to be given gifts even if it's someone else's occasion. >=]

Several photographs were taken of us, of course. Cellular telephones come with so much technology loaded into them that it was nothing for people to snap pictures of us and then scurry away somewhere to print them off. However, it was not one of these that was put to use later.

When Spicer and I returned home - largely because the potion was wearing off and we were beginning to feel ourselves responding to our high levels of arousal – we checked on the other people from the party using the Eye Spy Orb. Actually, I taught Jack how to activate it without requiring me around to do so. While the thing is inherently magical, I have set it to respond to commands from those in my possession. Jack is, of course, in my possession. >:3

We checked on the party goers, many of whom talked about us with open lust and incredulity. Only one, however, died from his greed for us. We saw him sitting alone on his couch, masturbating quite furiously to one of the pictures of us that made the tabloid circulation. He was stroking quite hard to the picture of Jack bent over his desk, coming hard as I fucked into him.

Even as this man stroked himself to an image of us, he was drinking beer and was already quite drunk. I used magic to discover how badly he'd injured himself with drink and we discovered that he was only one more beer away from dying of alcohol poisoning. He came, crying fat tears of misery... and, when he could breathe clearly again, reached for another beer.

Neither Jack nor I could resist each other, then. Achingly aroused from being denied sex all night despite how amazing we were, we naturally slipped into role-playing of Pharaoh and Consort – and had the cameras film it all. I have watched it already, and it was what drove me to being so naughty earlier this afternoon.

Jack was wading through paperwork for the patents and rights to the Tech Lotus Twister. I kept making it a point to try to tempt him into shirking his work to have sex with me. I "found" missing papers for him, I walked past him half-naked and sexy from intense exercise.

What finally tipped the scale was when he saw me "cooling" myself with a popsicle. I pushed it deep into my throat and swallowed, and that was that – he was all over me.

Naturally, after he proved himself on a "popsicle" of another sort, I made him watch our Egyptian episode. The sight of himself being pinned to the floor, his nails clawing my back, his legs clinging to my hips as I fucked hard into him while he screamed and begged for his lord to make him come...! It was all too much for him. He was soon ready and eager again (as was I) and I had him up against the nearest wall. When we were done, I held him up against the wall with magic so I could watch my come trickle down the inside of one bruise-dusky white thigh before leaning forward to lick his skin clean... which only excited him again.

What a perfect slut he is... especially as he is, even now, sucking my cock. He has been doing so with slow, strong sucks and strokes, clearly trying to torture me into submission. It has taken _every_ ounce of willpower I possess to finish this, but finished I am – at least with this!


	255. Sunday, Saturday 20, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 54  
Cupcakes: 23 (v. bad, don't care)

  
Today was a day of lazy indulgence, which I don't actually mind since it granted me the sight of Jack Spicer in his natural form: The Slob.

The way he explained it to me, he is "earning several bajillion trillion zmillions of dollars from sales of the Tech Lotus Twister all while schlepping around in his underwear and drinking beer."

How am I to argue with that? He is the second most powerful man on the planet - after myself, of course - and even as he is made disgustingly richer (perhaps even richer than myself), he is slobbing about in boxer shorts, scruffy stubble, and sucking on a beer bottle while lounging gracelessly on a sofa.

I decided that even the teacher may learn from the student (though what he is learning from me other than new positions I do not know) and joined him on the sofa for slobbing about. We watched daytime TV which, I would have thought were primarily soap operas, but we found the HGTV channel and the TLC channel. We made fun of home improvements and fashion fixer-uppers.

As for me, I loved seeing Jack in all his maleness. He was sporting stubble, and slouching, and scratching/burping/farting. He was, quite abruptly, a _guy_ ; a very _male_ creature with messy hair and slovenly ways.

He was so very masculine that I had this insistent need to dominate him. I fucked him there on the couch, hard and fast, all while feeling his stubble rasp beneath my tongue. I snapped my hips fast and rough, drove in, made him _scream_ as I raked over his prostate... and all the while, I smelled his musky male scent, felt his strong male muscles locking down hard around me, and heard the deep tones of his gruff male voice as he snarled "Yeah, Chase, yeah, yeah, fuck me, baby, yeah, god yeah, fuck me, _fuck_ me, you hot fucking oh _GOD!_ "

For someone who claims to be an atheist, he certainly yowls for divinity often enough.

I have let Spicer know I don't mind too much of this sloppy-guy mess – on _occasion_. I much prefer him when he is pretty in a clean and freshly styled way for most of the time, but every once in a while, this basic primate mode of his is fine.

Still, it was rather... enticing to see dark stubble on Jack's cheeks, chin, and throat. A subtle yet prominent reminder that he _is_ a _man_. Gods... Jack Spicer: a man. What a concept!

Hmmm... I wonder, though... how would he react to seeing facial hair on _me?_ I do not look bad with a goatee, but on the other hand, every stereotype Chinese villain in entertainment these days sports a goatee. Still, I wonder... and so, perhaps, I shall "forget" to shave in the morning.  >=]


	256. Monday, September 21, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 54  
Cupcakes: 5

  
Spicer _likes_ my facial hair!

I'm not terribly surprised, as he likes just about everything about me, but for some people facial hair is either a turn-on or a turn-off. I am pleased that Jack doesn't mind and is, in fact, rather approving of the gruff appearance it gives me. I have gone from elegant to roughneck, but if the leering gazes and unconsciously hungry licking-of-lips is any indication, he would gladly take the "super-masculine" image every day for the rest of our lives.

Then again, Jack adores my masculine form in all ways. Not too long ago, I was performing my morning workout in only trousers, footwear, and sash. By the time I came to a rest on my knees for meditation, he was slinking up to me sans trench coat, with his goggles about his neck and a smirk wreathing his lovely face. He spent several minutes nuzzling all over my body. While it did arouse me somewhat, I realized that he wasn't quite in that mindset. As he rested against me with his ear to the flat of my back between my shoulder-blades, I asked him what he was doing. He told me he was appreciating me; that he was so grateful I had turned to evil, and thus prolonged my life to the point that Jack had become aware of me, that he couldn't find the words to adequately express his happiness. He stroked my skin, following the path of my muscles; he nuzzled against me, inhaling my scent and feeling the warmth of me, soaking up my physical presence similar to the way a wine gourmand experiences an exceptional pressing of grapes.

Knowing how deeply he appreciates that I am alive, and greatly enjoys my masculinity, I may have to tease him with walking around half-naked more often than not while letting the facial hair grow. >:3

In other news, the Yangtze river delta is sinking - along with every other river delta in the world. This could be disastrous in terms of flooding because people would move outwards _and_ upwards, and would eventually begin trying to populate my Land of Nowhere.

Absolutely _not_ , said the Heylin Warlord to the peasant trash.

Still, we shall see how nature progresses. Perhaps by the time the deltas fully sink, Spicer's plan of a population boom resulting in the flinging of humanity into space will be achieved and those of us left behind may shore up the deltas with our powers without the lot of us winding up in a vivisection lab.

For now, I believe I might go do some shirtless muscle flexing within Spicer's general vicinity.


	257. Tuesday, September 22, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 54  
Cupcakes: 0 (yet; I imagine this number shall increase _quite_ soon)

  
Life, the universe, and _everything_ is about balance. Good balanced with evil, light with dark... sexy with by-all-the-unholy-forces-in-the-world-Sp

icer-give-me-a-break!

China has, in the last 50 years or so, been the focus of the world's eyes in smog pollution. Earlier today, the current (2009, as the world knows it) president declared that the smog problem would be done away with because a certain Jack Spicer resides in said country.

Nothing gets Jack hornier faster than world-wide "MUST HAVE!" recognition – except for vindictive evility.

So, to re-cap: China's president tells the world that China has Jack Spicer amongst its residents; Jack sends the president an ecology goody-basket of resource-preserving awesomeness (Jack's description, not mine); the president will, naturally, realize the benefit of being on Jack's benevolent side; ergo, the president will then pimp Jack out to the rest of his colleagues and thus Jack will have all of the world's major leaders _definitively_ eating out of his hand rather than supposedly.

All of that led to him pouncing on me for sex every two minutes or so. While I do not, technically, mind - and despite being, technically, 16 years old myself – dealing with Jack's 18-year-old supercharged hormones is a bit much to take, even for me.

He's unconscious, now, thanks to a potion slipped into his drink. Hopefully by the time he wakes up, I won't be too terribly sore.


	258. Wednesday, September 23, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 54  
Cupcakes: 13

  
I may never have sex again – at least with Spicer.

UGH. The crazy little brat got it into his head today to ponder the differences in our ages: technically, I am 16 – if I were to have my DNA examined for age, it would read as 16 – and he is 18. Legally, that makes me a minor and him the adult, which makes him a pedophile, which he was laughing his lily-white ass off about earlier.

 _Why_ did all this have to occur to him? It makes what we have together sound _sleazy_ instead of wonderful!


	259. Friday, September 25, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 54  
Cupcakes: 16

  
Spicer has a harebrained scheme in mind and I am inclined, for now, to play along.

Yesterday was spent coaxing me out of my petulant snit. He informed me that he had merely been trying to see us the way the rest of humanity would see us: as pedophile and victim. _That_ was why he was so amused because the reality of what we have is so far from what the rest of the world could imagine that there is no base point of comparison.

Fine, wonderful. I was content to spend the next couple of days wallowing in the two of us realigning ourselves in evil harmony.

Then, Spicer found out about three men being sentenced to death by hanging in Tanzania.

My first clue that something had agitated him was the screaming demand for a necronomicon because "THEY MUST DIE A THOUSAND MORE TIMES!!!!"

After I managed to get him to calm down to where he could speak coherently, Jack informed me that albinos are systematically murdered in Tanzania because witch doctors claim that albino body parts are necessary ingredients in prosperity potions.

It seems that not too long ago, a 14-year-old albino boy was murdered and his legs cut off for just such a potion. Jack is indulging in a fit of righteous sympathy for a fellow albino.

I don't want to tell him that the witch doctor was _almost_ correct. Albino parts _are_ valuable in potions. Specifically, the _purity_ of an albino (represented by the color of their skin) is doubled when said albino is a virgin. The body parts necessary for the _fertility_ potion...?

Yes. Precisely. _Those_.

At any rate, Jack has it in mind to let the world know he's going to go traipsing around Tanzania. Since he is a person of interest in the reality-tv sort of way, the world will keep track of his movements... and the plight of albinos in Tanzania will come to light. Since the modern human culture cannot stomach the thought of losing Spicer, I foresee the Tanzanian-albino situation being resolved in, oh... say... 14 hours or less.

As for me, I had best brush up on my "You don't notice me" spells. They are not quite invisibility spells, but rather, they subtly encourage people to not notice the spell-caster at all.

There is simply no way I am letting Spicer go to such a primitive place without _me_ as back-up.


	260. Saturday, September 26, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 54  
Cupcakes: 0

  
I am currently in Tanzania, enjoying sumptuous quarters in a posh hotel. I've had a delicious coconut bean soup, pilau, and chai. Jack was startled – but nevertheless enjoyed – Supu Ya Ndizi; otherwise known as plantain soup. Yes, bananas, or at the very least, their cousin.

The makubi (spinach cooked with tomatoes and peanut butter) was excellent, as well. I also made Jack eat entirely too many strawberries and requested of the kitchens a pure strawberry sauce. That, along with a few herbs and roots I've had brought to me via one of my warriors, shall make a suitable sunburn lotion for Jack.

He was only in the strong African sun for perhaps 10 minutes, which was seven minutes longer than he should have been. Unfortunately, he had not reckoned on the fact that criminals in Tanzania – especially albino hunters – have long lost their fear of judicial consequences. Jack was assaulted in broad daylight by a pair of albino hunters that clearly saw him as easy pickings.

One caught him by his right arm while another came at him with a vicious-looking machete. I broke the face of the one holding his arm. Jack, in clear view of the witnesses that had made no move to help him, pulled out his laser pistol and shot the one holding the machete through the head while the other ran away.

I shall track down the filthy dog in time. I think tomorrow, as we are leaving in the morning, once Spicer is settled in at the palace again I shall go hunting for the cretin that dared to lay hands on _my_ Consort with the intention of maiming him.

I would do it tonight, actually, except that I am quite certain that bribes will be made to the hotel staff and more albino hunters shall try their hands at attempting to murder and dismember my Jack.

The only thing I need to consider is how much of a mess should I make of them? Too great a mess and the authorities will look askance on Jack. If they are merely killed without having their entrails strung about the room, then Jack can claim self-defense and the full-force of government attention will be brought to bear on the plight of Tanzanian albinos, just as he wished.

....I confess I'm leaning more towards the "decorate the room with their gore" line of thinking.

We shall see.

For now, the strawberry sunburn lotion is in my possession and a certain Consort of mine is in need of attention of a non-violent sort. >=]


	261. Sunday, September 27, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 54  
Cupcakes: 14

  
I am smoking a cigar in the aftermath (afterglow?) of my triumphant return to the palace tonight.

I brought home the head of the cretin that dared to lay hands on my Consort. I brought it home on a _pike_. It is a grisly trophy and one that I feared Spicer would be squeamish about, but instead, he thanked me _quite_ graciously for my efforts on his behalf.

He is curled next to me in bed, soundly asleep, which is just as well since my anticipation of further attackers last night was found to be correct. I had predicted that more of them would find a way into our room, specifically through bribing. I had not heard any plans for such, but Jack is the most pure white albino on the planet and a spectacular prize. He is the darling of the world, currently. What higher prize for such hunters could there be than him? Especially an albino that proved himself capable of fighting back. He is not some easily terrified weakling – at least, not any longer. He is a dangerous and cunning opponent, now. >=]

Still, I was not willing to allow others to damage him. I broke bones left and right as a hunting party of about nine tried to burst in and take him. Rather than decorate the room with them, something no human could easily do, I left them intact so Jack would be able to claim self-defense.

Once he was safely home, however, I hunted the hunters. That disgusting street roach was not going to get away with assaulting my Consort.

The hunt was hours long, but only because I allowed it to be. I dogged his steps and turned him into a crying, terrified wreck of a man. By the time the hunt was finished, he was bleeding from several deep cuts, limping along on a broken leg, missing what few teeth he had, and had soiled his garments.

When I cornered him, he went to his knees and begged for his life. "Tafadhali," he whimpered at me. "Rabi," he called me. _Please_. _Lord_. He begged me for mercy, offered anything I could possibly wish if it would spare him. I told him there was nothing he could think of to equal the worth of the white lord he'd dared to defile with his touch.

The screaming lasted for a long, long time. >=]

I told my Jack of all this as he pleasured me with his mouth. His beautiful red eyes looked up at me with such approval for giving him the noble designation of lord. Really... he is not my equal, but neither would I consent to allow him near me if he were not worthy of it.

And so, that debacle comes to an end. No doubt, the governments of the world will have a "Save the Albinos!" plan in place by the time I wake up in the morning. They cannot risk alienating their most valuable asset, after all.


	262. Monday, September 28, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 54  
Cupcakes: 6

  
Spicer is at once still riled from the fact that the plight of Tanzanian albinos was being ignored until he went there in person and smug because his going there has literally moved heaven and earth to make changes. The air is practically sizzling from the volley of electronic communications between various seats of power, helicopters have been whupping back and forth to ferry armed squadrons to and fro, and a rout of the Tanzanian government and police forces is taking place as the corruption is shaken down to the foundations in an effort to make Jack Spicer happy.

He is _very_ happy (when he isn't irritated by having to go to such lengths in the first place) by the commotion, and even more so that I indulged him about it. We had throne sex earlier today. He straddled me, facing the Eye Spy Orb. I fucked him slowly, rocking my hips up and down beneath him while he watched news anchors around the world report on the efforts being made to correct the situation in Tanzania. I licked across the back of his neck, bit gently at the curve between neck and shoulder. I stroked his hard cock with a slick, firm grip even as I moved my own inside of him. When I could, I would murmur in his ear; talk to him of how he is now so powerful, so valuable, that the nations of the world would do anything to please him enough to be allowed to lick his feet!

Jack came so hard he nearly passed out. As he lay bonelessly against me, he watched from the corner of his eye as I licked my hand clean of him. He whimpered and jerked his hips while tightening around me and that was it. I held him slightly above me so that I had thrusting room and fucked him, hard and fast. I used his slick, tight sheath for my pleasure, growling in his ear that he might own the world, but that _I_ owned _him!_ The people of the world were _his_ whores, but _he_ is _my_ whore! Mine; all mine!

Jack _screamed_ as he came again, shocking us both with his sudden and unexpected second orgasm that ripped me along on my own. I came hard inside him, exulting in the pure pleasure of being the only man allowed to do so.

When I could see clearly again, could breathe and think clearly again, I had to have him immediately. I was far too excited by my power over Jack that I could cause such a reaction in him. I turned us so that he was kneeling on the floor, lying limp across the seat as I fucked him again. Jack, my beautiful treasure, never made a peep of protest. Instead, he rolled his hips and encouraged me with throaty murmurs of adoration.

He is perfect for me, so very perfect. Jack... I must keep you. I _must_. There has to be some spell or another that will grant me the pleasure of your company for eternity!

I must calm down. I am getting far too agitated at the moment and I need to get some rest tonight. I already warned Spicer that I can sense something big is going to happen tomorrow. Another Shen-Gong-Wu is going active and it is going to devastate the land wherever it is. Given the power of it, I can only assume that it will b—

 **Edited to Add:**

It is now roughly an hour later. I am exhausted and going to sleep in a few minutes. Spicer and his Consort Sense to the rescue again, it seems. Oh, _gods_ , what a gifted tongue he has! >=]


	263. Tuesday, September 29, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Monks: Should really buy Guan that plane ticket he needs for tomorrow. Where's he going? To the lovely city of Down, in central Fuckedville.  
Cupcakes: 4

  
I haven't been so excited in a long time!

This is _battle_ excitement; battle lust! There shall be a true fight between myself and Guan tomorrow as he battles on behalf of his students, those inept dogs, the Xiaolin Dragons. It seems they were not willing to accept the defeat I dealt them. Spicer helped, of course, but mostly it was I that fought them for the Vulcan Hammer that went active today.

The Vulcan Hammer is a Shen-Gong-Wu that has the power to activate _any_ volcano (or more than one!) in the world. A person need only mentally picture the volcano they wish to erupt and swing the Vulcan Hammer into the ground. Within moments, the magma core within the volcano ignites and powers upward in a powerful eruption.

Naturally, I wish to possess this Shen-Gong-Wu. Also naturally, the monks would rather I _not_ have it. They arrived in Samoa to challenge me for the Vulcan Hammer. They fought valiantly, but it wasn't enough – especially after I used my hard-won control over Earth magic against them. I instigated an 8.3 earthquake that has killed well over 100 people and triggered a deadly tsunami.  >=]

The Dragons being themselves, however, it is not enough for them that they lost to me fair and square. They have talked Guan into doing battle against me for final possession of the Vulcan Hammer and to settle the grudge.

The last time Guan and I seriously fought, it lasted for days. We were both starving, filthy, bloody wrecks by the end of it, but I _did_ win through skill.

I look forward to beating him to a pulp in front of the monks and Spicer. How my heart pounds with the thought of Jack watching me undeniably trounce my enemy! He shall see me at my most savage, my most furious; he shall see me triumphant!

I must go meditate in preparation for battle, else I would pin Jack to the floor wherever I happened to find him and rut him into unconsciousness!


	264. Wednesday, September 30, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Monks: I do hope Guan enjoyed his trip. >:3  
Cupcakes: 2

  
I am exhausted, but this state of vulnerability is well-earned.

I beat the _SHIT_ out of Guan today, to use a modern vulgar phrase.  >=]

We met on the field of battle in Sumatra at dawn this... is it still 'this'? Today? Hmmm... nearly midnight, but still in the waning hours, so yes - this morning. The field was chosen by the monks. I suspect it was done so because they know of Jack's love for coffee, and Sumatra is a prime coffee bean agricultural center. Unfortunately, a few acres of coffee trees were destroyed in the earthquake I unleashed during the battle (yes, another one), but for the most part, the coffee industry in Sumatra is safe. The _people_ are not, but who cares about them?

Spicer went along to watch the battle, despite my last minute reluctance for him to be there. He always tends to get injured in major confrontations with the monks. However, he swore to me that he would wear his Matter Shifter and watch the carnage while intangible (he did) and I took a further precaution and made Guan swear to leave Jack out of this fight.

Guan was highly offended that I'd done so, but given how thuggish, how despicable... how _Heylin_ the Xiaolin Dragons have been lately, I wasn't taking any chances in regard to the safety of my favorite minion.

Guan, when the Xiaolin's lax morals were pointed out to him, looked suitably chagrined.

He swore to leave Jack alone... and the battle began.

He dealt me a few solid blows; I have rather extensive bruising on various parts of my body, but they are easily dismissed from worry. Guan had to be dragged away from me, his unconscious body vulnerable to me as I nearly gave in to instinct and tore out his throat once he was down and out. The Dragons were glaring tearful hatred at me, but they did not push the matter further.

So, I am once again the victor against Guan, which will undoubtedly leave his pride in worse shape than his body. I am also, supposedly, the undisputed master of the Vulcan Hammer, but that will hardly pre-empt anyone from stealing it - or trying to. Wuya is _somewhere_ in the world and she is addicted to Shen-Gong-Wu. She would make a try for it. Perhaps Bean would... _definitely_ the young Dragons will try.

I need to remember to ask Jack to build a decoy that has no hope of working that I may leave in a not-too-terribly obvious place for the vermin to sniff after.

For now... my Consort has come to me with lubricant on hand and a lustful smile on his face. Despite my exhaustion, despite the soreness of my body, am I not entitled to a victory fuck?

I do believe I am. >=]


	265. Thursday, October 1, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Monks: Hopefully suicidal, by now!  
Cupcakes: 7

  
I had to remind Jack today about wanting to remove the pacemaker. Actually, I had _planned_ to remove it today, but he almost passed out on me, so I agreed to postpone it to tomorrow.

I should have simply stuck my hand through his chest even as he was breathlessly thanking me, just to get it over and done with so he wouldn't have time to work himself into a state of panic, but I rather enjoy having sex with him and if I had done that, I wouldn't have gotten any until sometime late December and then only as a grudging winter solstice gift.

I left him to stew himself up over the simple operation, but he found me again sometime later, asking for ideas for a Salt Basket. Needless to say, I was confused, until he explained to me that when he was younger, he would make the polar opposite of CARE packages. To torment his enemies, he would send hate baskets full of things to rub proverbial salt in their wounds.

Have I mentioned, lately, that Spicer is a genius?

I used to send "Salt Baskets" to my enemies, too – but only _after_ something intense had happened between us. While the battle for the Vulcan Hammer _did_ just pass (and Jack had been building me the decoy Hammer when I reminded him of the pacemaker removal), Jack often makes Salt Baskets _just because_. No special reason; he simply wants to irritate the people he hates.

Genius! Genius, genius, genius.

How could I have ever doubted his value to the Heylin side?

Needless to say, we spent hours coming up with things to add to the basket. For Kimiko, we sent Rogaine, breast implants, Botox, and a guide to better fashion sense as well as several issues of the magazine _Cosmopolitan_ with varying articles dedicated to attracting, pleasing, and keeping a man.

For Pedrosa, we sent a DVD of ourselves having hours of sex in every possible way. Jack was hesitant to send it, knowing that Pedrosa will probably sprain his prick rubbing off to the sight of us, but then laced the thing with nanites to destroy the DVD and the machine it was played in should it be watched more than three times. Still, for the performance, I made certain to say as many times as I could that Jack is the _best_ Consort I have ever had; that nobody can suck cock like he can, that his ass is _perfection_... I allowed myself to come dramatically several times. I think my favorite was when Jack had been lying beneath me, sublimely passive as I fucked his mouth slowly and gently... until my orgasm approached. I knelt over him, held him steady beneath me; closed my eyes and moved carefully, but quickly, as I screamed "Jack... Jack! Jack! Yes, _yes_ , Jack, yes, _Jack!_ " until I focused on coming in my Consort's beautiful mouth. I gave the appearance of a man so besotted by his partner that he had found Nirvana in the subtle swirl of a sinful tongue.

Knowing Pedrosa, he is going to be _wild_ over this. I wonder if he might actually try to sneak into the palace in an attempt at seducing me? I admit, the thought of it is somewhat... intriguing. An illicit rendezvous with a Xiaolin monk panting with lust for me, achingly desperate for _me_... and while I would definitely use his eager, willing ass, I would feel nothing for him beyond wanting an orgasm. And, as soon as it was done, I would shove him away and thank him for the sex, but that I had to return to my Consort; the man who had genuinely won the right to my bed and my eternity.

The idea of crushing Pedrosa in such a way tantalizes me.

For Bailey, we sent pig slaughterhouse videos, a calendar full of cute pig pictures and pork recipes, and Jack's crudely drawn rendition of Bailey's sister looking vaguely like a humanoid pig while Bailey himself did dirty things to her with his cock – which Jack colored over with a CENSORED bar at the last minute. For added salt, he threw in a joke book about two feet thick picking on all things Texas.

I asked him if he _wanted_ to make Clay angry enough to kill him... _again_.

Jack merely laughed and doodled a quick sketch of himself sticking out his tongue and holding up his middle-finger at the viewer of the page.

As the coup de grace for the whole thing, we added a tally sheet of Victories for the past few months showing just how often the Heylin side – i.e., Spicer and I – had gained a victory versus the Xiaolin side's rather pathetic showing.

Added to that were the things Jack had already thought of: the DVD of ever evil atrocity committed by the monks plus a frank letter detailing precisely what he thought of them in cold, hard fact without a single instance of emotional editorializing.

Say what you will about Jack Spicer, but the boy can be a _vicious_ bitch when he wants to be.

For now, the vicious bitch is asleep beside me in bed. We were both so pleased at our efforts of creating a truly potent Salt Basket that we expressed that pleasure physically to and with each other. >=]

When we weren't rutting each other like wild beasts, we simply lounged in bed. I read a few scrolls I'd found on the subject of immortality (I'm still looking for a way to bind Jack to me forever), and he doodled some more in a sketch pad. I waited until he fell fully asleep after our last round of screaming, clawing, bed-shaking, balls-numbing fantastic sex (another reason he's perfect for me: we've yet to have actual _bad_ sex despite being together for months!), and then snuck a peek at his sketches.

It certainly explains why he was so wildly aroused. The little brat! He sketched images of the two of us having sex... but with me in my _monster_ form! He never said a word about it, knowing how tetchy I am about this. If I bring it up, he'll more than likely burn the sketches. I think I'll keep quiet about this; allow him to have this visualized fantasy.

Truthfully, it doesn't look bad. It could even be erotic if not for my mind's eye terrifying me with images of Jack's body being mangled beyond repair when caught in the throes of my orgasm. I will ignore those mental terrors and focus, instead, on the expression of adoration, peace, and pleasure on Jack's sketched face as he is taken by his brutal, ugly lover.

Or I can recall the same expression on his living face only mere minutes ago as I fucked him hard, pounding into him and making him come screaming my name only moments before I spent myself inside him.

Yes... that is, by far, the more pleasing thought to go to sleep with. >=]


	266. Friday, October 2, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 7

  
The operation was a success! ...sort of.

All was going well enough until Jack, in his nervousness, let his heartrate increase. The pacemaker snagged for a brief moment, but I managed to coax him back to calmness. I assured him that I was not at all ready to allow any harm to come to him; that I was prepared to move heaven and earth should he suffer any harm. Those beautiful blood-red eyes looked at me and _believed_. He relaxed and allowed the operation to proceed. The pacemaker withdrew easily, but thanks to the snag, Spicer has put himself on post-cardiac surgery protocol, to be on the safe side, and I fully approve. Of course, that means we must refrain from anything terribly acrobatic when having sex, but we're both creative, lusty young(ish) men; we can come up with something to do.  >=]

Such as our interlude in the tub tonight. Slow, heated kisses between the two of us as he slowly, carefully rode my hard cock... when he came, I came with him, and then cuddled him back to a slower heart rate afterwards. I want his heart to remain in perfect working condition. He means...

I want him perfectly fine.


	267. Saturday, October 3, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 13

  
I've gone through six cigars.

Completely worth it.

Spicer... _JACK_.

Variant Yawning _Position!_

>=]

Katnappé can wait.

.......... _Variant Yawning Position!_


	268. Sunday, October 4, 4707

  
Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 5

  
I am pleasantly stuffed on the most _decadent_ cinnamon buns the world has never known – never, because Spicer has made them only for _me_.  >=]

I have shared them with him, naturally. I shared them _on_ him for a little bit. Either way, they were supremely delicious.

Jack and I are feeling rather pleased with ourselves today thanks to yesterday's dallying with the Variant Yawning Position. Jack had done some research in order to give me a pleasing surprise. I strongly suspect it was his way of drawing my attention back to him and away from Katnappé – not that I mind. There was no way she could have done what Jack did.

The Variant Yawning Position is not exactly new to me. I have known of it, but it has always been denied me. Vaginal passages are too short for truly deep penetration, especially when the penetrator is as gifted as myself. Men, however, have no such limitations.

I went so deep and Jack was so _tight_... oh, gods... I get a shiver simply thinking about it.

We talked a bit about the information found in the Kama Sutra. He told me about bee-stingers used to enlarge a man's prick and the one thing that made us _both_ cringe: cock-biting to enhance sexual pleasure.

I'm sorry, but... _NO_. Not now, not _ever_ , just _NO_ — to borrow a Spicer-ism.

I told him about ancient Chinese "aphrodisiacs" such as mixing the sperm of barely pubescent boys with eagle or falcon dung and making it into a pellet to be ingested orally. Another one was eating brains from the freshly severed heads of executed offenders, which then became solely a eunuch practice in an effort to re-grow the missing parts.

Spicer also informed me of how Finnian and Negriss are doing. Apparently, they're fine, though a trifle stressed. The... children... seem to be _incubating_ well enough.

I'd rather not think about it. I'd rather eat cinnamon buns.

I shall do so now.

...Taking great care to not even glance at the Negrinnian Garden as I walk past.


	269. Monday, October 5, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 16

  
I gave Spicer the Sword of the Storm today. He had a strange look on his face; part excitement and part resentment. The former was greater than the latter, to be sure, but the latter was there at all because the Sword of the Storm is Pedrosa's favored Shen-Gong-Wu. Despite that, he quickly got to work on studying the 'Wu. More likely than not, a weather control device will result from his studies, which is fine.

In other news: He discovered that a cartoon/comic book villain from the 1980s has one of those Twit accounts; that ridiculous thing where people update their "status" two lines of typing at a time to let the world know precisely what they're doing and how they're doing.

Really? How narcissistic does one have to _be_ to think that anyone gives _that_ much of a damn about them? I expressed that point aloud and Jack teased me that if narcissism is the key factor, did that mean that I have one?

Grah. Wretched brat and his damnable (wonderful) tongue.

So, then... this villain is not real. It is someone simply pretending to be the villain; some silly thing named Cobra Commander. I bet anything that he speaks with a hissing voice, too – heavy on the sibilants. Still, Spicer was amused as he shared the "updates" from the "Commander" with me.

Jack swears it is _not_ , in fact, him that is behind the Cobra Twit account despite several (e.g., _most_ ) of the posts sounding like something he would say. He retorted that he'd found a few that sounded suspiciously like _me_ and thought perhaps I was the culprit.

It is not me, of course, and I am loath to admit this, but... in one instance, I wish it was. There is a snippy bit of sarcasm I have taken a great liking to, and would love to use, but it is too easy to find out where I borrowed it from and I will not have anyone mocking me as a cheap copycat.

Still, that "What's the OTHER half of the battle?" line is creatively bitchy. I wish I'd been the one to think of it first or at least something similar.


	270. Tuesday, October 6, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 6

  
There was a moment of hilarity today between Jack and myself. Oddly enough, it happened during sex!

We were in bed and he was riding me. By the gods, it was _so good_ ; he was hot, tight... wanton, as he always is, but so perfect every time.

...Until he fell off, that is.

It took a few moments for me to catch up, but by the time I did, I was peering over the edge of the bed and looking down at Spicer, who looked for all the world like a startled, offended hatchling. I thought any moment he was going to start squawking in outrage.

Instead, we both started laughing.

He climbed back up and snuggled up against me, tucked against my side for a few moments, but we both wanted to finish. It felt... good and odd at the same time to feel him laughing around my cock as he tried to give me a blowjob and he could barely focus enough to stroke himself, but...

I enjoyed it just the same. >=]

Afterward, we snuggled up together again, snickering some more. I told him of some of my more embarrassing sexual mishaps, such as the first time I was having sex with a human man. He was licking my bumhole in order to arouse me and just as he leaned in and touched his tongue to me – I farted. Yes, in his face.

Then, there was another time when I was with the daughter of duke somewhere north of what is now Hong Kong. She was touted as his perfect child: dainty, delicate... gloriously beautiful. She was that, definitely, but she was also hailed as utterly pure, completely virginal.

I have never met a bigger slut in my life - until Jack, that is.

So, I was a high class guest in their home, we were at a grand party... she lured me out into a shadowy pavilion and did deliciously indecent things to me – and the proof was in the pudding when we returned to the party and the evidence was all over her dress.

I had no choice but to lay waste to the entire contingent of soldiers, her brothers, her father – and then, took her as my Consort for a brief time when, she was so excited from the carnage and my prowess that she urged me to take her right there amid the bodies.

Which I did.

But, _still_ : I went from pampered party guest to mass murderer before I was ready to take my leave of the palatial home! All because of a randy royal slut.

Though, I must admit... the look on her father's face when he saw the stains on his daughter's bodice...! I haven't forgotten it, even after all of these years.

Jack was amused by it... and then, decided to try his best to out-slut that long-ago Consort.

>=]

I am pleased to report that Jack won in all the ways that counted.

How lucky am I that a young man such as Jack Spicer has come into my life? I could not have made a better Consort if I'd tried.


	271. Wednesday, October 7, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 9

  
Spicer has grasped the finer points of subtlety. He is, of course, planning to use the weather manipulation properties of the Sword of the Storm for a weather control device.

What I had not counted on was that he is also beginning production of the space-faring vessels requested by Earth's space programs... and so, once they are completed, he will allow them to be used so that people feel perfectly safe flying in them, and then, unleash weather disasters that will force them to flee. A terrific plan... though I fear he will have to fake his death in order to be left behind without anyone coming to search for him.

....And, that brings up unpleasant thoughts of losing Jack. Therefore, while he is occupied at playing Mad Scientist in his laboratory, I shall flee to my own realm of knowledge and research more on immortality.


	272. Thursday, October 8, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 4

  
Jack took _me_ on a date tonight.

He felt the need to take me out because he felt he needed to make up for the "embarrassing" moment in bed. While I didn't mind it too awfully much, far be it from me to turn down a night out on the arm of a rich, sexy young man. He took me to one of the "trendier" nightclubs that he knows of that caters to his type of crowd: young, professional, connected, and so rich it makes lesser mortals _seethe_ with hatred.

We were the toast of the crowd, naturally. Both of us received far too many indecent proposals in the form of sex, money and drugs. Neither of us were interested in sex or drugs with anyone except each other, and as for the money... _ha!_ Either myself or Spicer alone is rich enough to buy those pretentious twits and their families unto the sixth generation, forwards or back.

Neither of us liked the music, but the food and the alcohol were _terrific_. Still, even the music was remedied. Spicer had a word with the DJ to play something other than the sappy, nasal, whiny voices being played. Admittedly, he chose yet another modern artist that I do not particularly care for, but he asked me to pay attention to the lyrics.

He chose a song called "Closer" by some young man with a love of those _Matrix_ films. The lyrics, however, spoke of insatiable need to belong to a lover, to _be_ with a lover; the clawing, grinding, murder-inspiring want of closeness with another person.

We danced together; a gratuitous display of lust and wickedness that left more than a few people breathless and wildly aroused by the time we left. I teleported us home and had Jack immediately on the floor, unable to wait the few seconds it would take to get to the bed. Only after that fast, messy dry-humping did we make it to the bed for more, even better sex.

As of now, I eagerly await the return of my Consort. He wanted to note the details of our date in his own journal. Apparently, he thought an evening out with me was something of importance. >=D

Ahhh... there he is. Bruises and scratches from passionate bites and hard grips adorn his lovely white skin. I think my favorites will always be the pattern of bruises left on and around his hips from where my fingers grip him tightly when fucking him.

Or maybe my favorite is the way those blood-red eyes look at me as if I am the most marvelous thing to ever happen to this planet.

My Jack... you please me.


	273. Friday, October 9, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 17

  
Spicer and I were busy on various independent projects today. He finished one of his early in the day – if afternoon counts as early – and so came to find me for some quality entertainment. What he received, however, was something along the lines of "I'm being very busy and important. Run along and play with your toys elsewhere; there's a good lad."

While I suppose a man of his intelligence would be somewhat helpful on this project, again: I do not want to get his hopes up. In the event that I _cannot_ find an immortality spell that will wreak the least amount of change and havoc on him, I don't want him to fret. So far as Jack knows, there _isn't_ a way for him to become immortal without striking a deal with Bean. He has resigned himself to mortality and eventual death; a brief existence by my side and then, no more.

I am not willing to settle for that, thus my project. Neither do I wish the headache of hyperactive excitement and crushing disappointment (in the event of failure), and so he is kept in the dark for now.

I made little progress, but I think I might find something in the grimoire of a Heylin witch from roughly 3,000 years ago. The problem is deciphering the language; it is old and difficult, even for me.

At any rate, I finished my day's work around sunset and went in search of my Consort. I found him in his lab, muttering and cackling over the Sword of the Storm about individually crafted thunderstorms for picnic-goers in parks. I fear that I might possibly have decided to hook up with a nut-case. In any event, he broke off his demented chortling to tell me about his plans for a personal weather manipulation device. No apparent plans to market one as, in his words, "The idiots of the world are already bone-dead fucking stupid with cars and landscaping tools. Give them the ability to control weather and we'll see tornado wars within a week – and a reality tv show about it a week after that."

He raises a good point, but an even better point about having a personal weather manipulation device is that he can occasionally alter the cloud cover for those days and nights when he wants to be outside with me without worrying about his delicate skin being hurt. In particular, he mentioned something about sex on the beach with a storm backdrop, and I decided that he _would_ be making his weather toy if I have to stop time for the rest of the world to ensure he works without distraction or interruption.

The idea of a trip to the seashore, with Jack wearing teeny black briefs (but only very briefly), has me yearning for the scent of sea-water and coconut crème lotion. >=D


	274. Saturday, October 10, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 24 (v. bad)

  
Spicer and his amazing brain... He is far more useful to me than as a mere sex partner. He also bakes like a god (if there were ever a divine spirit in charge of baked goods), having brought me obscenely chocolaty chocolate chip cookies for a snack. And then, to top everything off, he solved a translation problem for me in one glance!

I rather _like_ having a genius as my Consort, particularly a Jack of all trades, as Spicer most certainly is. The others I've had were astonishingly beautiful, perhaps even more lovely than Jack. But they were also fluffy in ways Jack will not allow himself to be and, while intelligent, not anywhere near as intelligent as he is.

Not that I'm sneering at his sexual attractiveness! In fact, I promised him that I'd reward him later for his help. He went away and I got back to work, my mind half-focused on the ancient text before me and the thought of Jack being "rewarded."

When "later" finally arrived, what happened exceeded even my expectations. >=D

He'd broken out the bondage gear!

Jack wearing black leather wrist and ankle cuffs, and a black leather collar studded with rubies and diamonds, makes me one very happy Heylin dragon-lord. He handed me his leash on bended knee and followed my commands to the ~~leather~~ letter. Ahaha... Freudian slip, I believe it's called.

I should like to have a digital camera on hand; easy for me to use so the next time Jack is on his knees before me, his hands gently cuffed behind his back, and pleasuring me solely with his mouth and tongue, I'll be able to take photographs during the few brief moments of lucidity. A "Chase-Eye-View" of Jack sucking me would be a lovely addition to our collection.

Naturally, Jack sucking me off is not the only thing we did. I think my favorite was when I fucked him from behind while we stood in the middle of the room. His ankles were cuffed with a chain that allowed him to spread his feet only so far apart. His hands were still cuffed behind him as he stood bent over to allow me inside him. His only means of staying upright was trusting in my grip on his hips as I fucked in and out of him, slow, hard.

By the gods, it was _good_. He was trembling; sweating and shaking, writhing in my grip and unable to do anything but beg me for more. When he came, sobbing and shuddering, I gripped him tighter and pulled him hard onto my cock as I gave myself over to the glorious sensation of Jack orgasming because of what I'd done to him. I came inside him; enough so that some of it seeped out around my hard cock and joined his own essence on the marble floor of my bedroom. The intensity of our joining was such that I barely made it to the bed with him before my strength deserted me.

I had enough awareness to uncuff his hands and that was that. We lay dozing for a while, with me against his back, keeping him warm. I woke up, horny for him once again, and stealthily cuffed his hands behind him once more.

 _Jack_ did not wake up until the slick slide of my tongue and lips along his prick caught his attention.

He stared down at me, muttered something in a voice so thick with lust that it was indecipherable, and rolled to his back. He made certain his arms and hands were comfortably situated, tucked his heels up by his hips, and let his thighs fall open. He watched me avidly as I pleasured him with my mouth, muttering such things as "Gods, yeah, that's so fucking hot" and "Oh, yes, baby, like that, like that, baby, do it again, please, baby, please!"

Given how aroused he was, I can forgive him for the verbal slip. Truth be told, I don't mind the "pet name" too awfully much. I like that he feels strongly enough that he belongs with me, to me, that he can say such things.

If he ever calls me that in front of anyone else, though, I'm going to have to punch his lights out.

Still, the sight of him desperate for every lick, every kiss, every caress of my lips and tongue across his cock and balls made me so hard it was almost painful. I brought him just to the very edge of orgasm, and then backed off. He called me such filthy names that I was in turns amused and appalled even as I slicked my cock with lubricant, knelt down against him, and thrust my erection into him, hard.

His verbal barrage of linguistic trash choked off. He snarled, strained up to meet the length of me... his eyes rolled back in his head and he shuddered wildly as he began coming, just from me entering him!

How _grand_ Jack is for my ego!

I waited for him to calm and then began fucking him. I teased his neck with soft kisses and licks, and treated his nipples to the same ministrations. I cannot be _too_ rough with him in certain places; not if I want him to lose interest in having sex with me.

What truly pleased him, however, was when I kissed Jack as I fucked him. I kissed him deeply, drinking him the way a man dying of thirst takes after water. Gods, the taste of him, the _feel_ of him...! I am not ashamed to admit that I did not last long.

When I came within Jack, I cried his name and bared my throat to him without hesitation. I lost my awareness as I focused entirely on the superb orgasm he had given me.

We had more sex throughout the night, with him still cuffed but riding me at one point. Eventually, I tired of having his hands cuffed behind him and instead linked him to the four posts of the bed, leaving him entirely at my mercy. I believe _his_ favorite was me twisting and turning my body to give his mouth access to various parts of me; my arms, my hips, my shoulders, my hands, my balls... whatever I felt like having his tongue and lips caress, I gave to him, but only if I felt like doing so. He never questioned me; simply lavished sexual adoration on whatever body part was presented to him, desperate to please me.

Beautiful, wicked Jack...

Eventually, we tired of our play and settled down for true sleep. His final statement before slipping into exhausted lumber: "If _this_ is how you react to me figuring out one little glyph for you, remind me to translate cuneiform for you sometime."

Ha! I just might let him. >=D


	275. Sunday, October 11, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 18

  
I want to, but I do not want to.

Go see the Snakelings... Ratlings? Rakelings? Whatever they are, I am torn between never wanting to lay eyes on them ever, and wanting to see them just to know what they look like.

Jack has tried to describe them, but apparently they are a motley group of genetic results. Some look more like rats, others look more like snakes, others look like a strange hybrid: furry snakes and scaled rats. At least one of them has the body of a rat at least to the mid-way point, the stomach area, at which point the rest of the creature becomes a snake's tail.

I am incredibly disturbed and incredibly curious at the same time.

Yet, I think I shall go see them. Better to know what is lurking in my home than not.

 **Edited to Add:**

I stand corrected. I shall know what is lurking in my home when the Naga that created them is damned good and ready to allow a predator of my caliber anywhere near his offspring. Negriss does not challenge me often (at all, really), but I was met at the entrance of their garden habitat with the clear and present danger of a pissed off snake deity should I attempt to get past him to the children.

It was an excuse I gladly accepted to put off seeing the creatures for as long as possible. While I do not _want_ to see them, I must; a duty I cannot escape.

But not until Negriss allows it, which hopefully will be a while yet.

Finnian, on the other hand, is happy to see his former Master and Negriss, wanting to keep his preferred partner happy, has allowed Jack to come and go as the human man pleases. In fact, Jack was making absurdly cute noises of delight at Finnian curling up in his hair "like the good ol' days!"

What manner of a man have I shacked up with that _delights_ in having rodents curling up in his hair for a nap?


	276. Monday, October 12, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 13

  
Spicer has lifted my thoughts away from half-rodent snakes (or half-snake rodents) quite successfully! He gave me a prototype weather manipulation device that is restricted in what it can make: tornadoes.

Fortunately, it can make several of them at once. >=D

The Jiézhì Collar – an enslavement collar; the wearer must follow every command of the person who places it upon them – was up for grabs today. Neither side wants the other to have it and I, especially, would like to keep it away from Wuya and Bean. Jack was intent on keeping it away from Pedrosa; a sentiment I can agree with.

Using Spicer's new toy, I conjured several tornadoes, forcing Pedrosa to focus more on protecting himself and his friends than on acquiring the Jiézhì Collar. I won the item, and Spicer and I departed home.

I teased Spicer with the idea of putting it on him, but he accurately pointed out the fact that he couldn't possibly obey me even more than he already does. I found this fact rather arousing, to say the least. >=D I pounced on him for sex – though, it had to be non-penetrative. He and I are a trifle sore from the marathon of sex we recently engaged in; Spicer more than myself, of course.

Later, I left Spicer asleep in bed and went to my private garden to meditate on what to do about the Jiézhì Collar. I was found by Omi, who was rather prudish about the fact that I was still nude. >=D

My young lion cub merely wanted company, but I apprised him of the capture of the Jiézhì Collar and asked his opinion on what should be done with it. He advised that it be destroyed; that having it in existence meant I would be setting myself up as an eventual target – and, if not me, then someone close to me who could then be used against me.

Omi also, with great shame, said that the temptation of it would be too great for Pedrosa to resist. Omi wanted me to destroy it to save his friend, but I found more favor with what he'd said previously, for it is true: It would only be a matter of time before it was used against me.

So, I dressed myself and took the Jiézhì Collar to the Eyjafjallajökull volcano in Reykjavik, Iceland. I materialized within the crater and dropped the Collar into the lava, weighted down with a 200-pound chunk of iron. It disappeared with a sick slurp. I vanished as soon as I sensed the dissolution of the spells protecting the Collar.

I'm certain the ensuing eruption was spectacular, but I had a warm, sleeping Consort to return to.

I'll take a lovely Consort over a lovely Collar any day.


	277. Tuesday, October 13, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 11

  
I happened across Spicer writing in his diary a few hours ago. It seems he wanted to document the gift package he received from NASA. In thanks for building _them_ new toys to play with – thus neatly avoiding the imminent shut-down they were being threatened with – they sent _him_ toys.

I chanced a peek at his (largely undisturbed) bedroom. It is decorated in glow in the dark stars. I am utterly flattered that he has created a "constellation" in the shape of my monstrous dragon-form. I am _less_ flattered that he spent a great bit of time shooting plastic discs using a "space ray gun" at my warriors. More than one of them has approached me, asking me to curb my lover.

My lover... yes. He _is_ my lover. I find myself strangely pleased to call him my _lover_ as opposed to merely my Consort. Jack Spicer is, most definitely, my Consort... but he is also my lover. A distinction I feel I must meditate upon.

In the meantime, Spicer has asked me to create origami with him. I had no idea he could create origami in the first place, let alone spaceships and astronauts.

As I have never before created origami spaceships and astronauts, I suspect we will – for once – be evenly matched.

The topic of origami has me thinking, though. I am thinking about art, now, and what aspects of it that Jack might appreciate. The thought of collecting art with him, a blend of his tastes and mine... appeals to me.

For now, the art of paper-folding is what we share and I go to my duty with, oddly enough, a grin on my face.

What is happening to me?

What has he done to me?

.....Why do I not mind?


	278. Wednesday, October 14, 4707

  
Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 9

  
I took Jack art shopping today.

We went to museums to acquire pieces we both like. Jack, it turns out, has always been a rather devoted fan of the piece _Death Dealer_ by Frank Frazetta. He was surprised when the painting abruptly vanished, but he watched me closely as I cast the spell. In barely a second or two, a replica had magically materialized and taken its place.

We used that method to purloin yet more pieces from museums around the world, art shows, art auctions, and the like. Jack is thoroughly impressed with me and proved it once we got home.

My mind is still in a pleasure-drunk haze from what he did to me with his mouth.

Clever, clever Jack Spicer!

While the sex was definitely attention worthy, it was not the best part of the day. That, I have to say, came from simply spending the day out and about with him. That is what pleases and surprises me: I can spend time with Jack in a non-sexual way and still enjoy his company.

I would never have considered such a thing possible a year ago – not even six months ago!

Still, I am grateful that I shall not easily get bored of him.


	279. Thursday, October 15, 4707

  
Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Monks: So easily seduced- and just as easily rebuffed! >=]  
Cupcakes: 32 (V. bad; boredom truly is the enemy of diets everywhere)

  
A day that started out as boring became interesting.

There was really nothing to _do_ and I’d noticed myself becoming stuck in a rut – not the pleasurable kind of rut, either.

I located Spicer, also bored despite having _something_ he could be doing with technology, sitting on the sofa in one of the parlors he’d never been in before. He was simply staring into space, so I sat on the sofa with him, asking why he was in a parlor closer to the lower section of the mountain. His reply was that it was something he _hadn’t_ done before, and so….

Ennui; it is truly the bane of geniuses everywhere.

We sat there for a while, saying nothing, until I noticed Jack staring intently at my head. Before I could ask why, he made a request of me: He wanted to _braid my hair!_

I was not terribly thrilled with the idea. I’d _seen_ what he’d done to himself once in a fit of boredom by giving himself a makeover. He gave himself the “Glam Rock” style, which I’ve never understood. By the time he was done, he’d sported a wig of poofy, frizzy hair that matched his own natural color, his white skin had been painted with glittery make-up (though he’d chosen tasteful colors to go with his red eyes and white skin), and he’d dolled himself up in shiny tight clothing. His pants had been so tight I had actually winced and crossed my legs reflexively, as if trying to protect my own genitalia.

Thinking back on it, I wonder why he felt the need to make sterility nanites for himself. I’m certain those pants killed off any viable sperm he’d had and possibly future generations as well.

With his Glam Rock phase in mind – which I brought up and he blushed, because he hadn’t known that _I_ had known about it – I expressed my misgivings of the idea. Jack then swore on his own life and our sex life that he would not do anything drastic or tacky to my hair. Since I know how much he values our sex life, I agreed.

I was pleasantly surprised at how strangely soothing it was to essentially be a hairdresser’s doll. He carries grooming devices around with him, so he combed my hair carefully just to make sure there were no tangles that might get worse. He spent a good deal of time simply running his fingers through my hair. I heard him muttering about how glorious my hair is and I couldn’t help a smirk. My hair is my one true pride and joy. If anyone ever damages it, they can expect to die slowly and painfully; perhaps even taking upwards of one-hundred years to expire.

Jack did get around to braiding my hair, of course. He used deft movements that caused me no harm and, after each braiding style was done, snapped a picture with his digital camera that he also carries about with him.

“Well, hey! You never know when we might want to add a few snapshots to our collection, and how much would the mood be ruined if I had to stop sucking you off just to scurry off and grab a camera?” ~ Jack Spicer, Consort of Chase Young, on Why He Carries a Camera Everywhere He Goes

Using his ever-present camera, he took pictures from all angles of each style and then showed them to me so I could see his handiwork. I have to admit, whatever he chose as a style looked damn good on me. I might take to wearing braids more often, but only if Jack plays hairdresser and does it for me. I used to wear braids regularly when I was younger, come to think of it – until Bean taunted me about it, declaring that I was trying to turn myself into Guan, who used to have the Manchurian Queue before he went totally bald. Guan did _that_ as a counterpoint to my vanity of having a mane of luxurious hair; yet another reason why Evil is the better choice of career paths. We get to crush our opponents and look gorgeous while doing it.

Even the Xiaolin acknowledge how lovely we are to look at, if Pedrosa’s drooling arrival was any indication.

That _fungus_ … tried to make a play for me. He showed up, found me (I’m not entirely certain how), and came into the parlor carrying gifts he’d chosen to get me in the mood to have sex with him. The wine and the flowers were a nice touch – actually, no. The wine was _cheap swill_ and the flowers were simple wildflowers picked from somewhere near the Xiaolin Temple. Still, they were better than the other two gifts he’d brought:

A dildo and a pornography magazine.

Really? I am a Heylin _Lord_. I am a creature of grace and nobility, and “sheer fucking awesomeness” – to quote Jack. I am refined in my tastes, as I’ve had the better part of two millennia in which to learn how to appreciate the finer things in life.

All of that, and that hormonal, teenaged street thug masquerading as a monk thinks I will be swayed by cheap goods and cheaper sex toys?

As it turns out, the dildo wasn’t even for me. A quick glance across his mind (not too much more than that; he _has_ received training against mental attacks) gave me the information that the dildo was for Jack to keep himself occupied while _I_ fucked _Pedrosa_. I’d have thought the magazine would be another Jack-distraction tool, but no – the cheap Xiaolin boy thought the sight of silicone mortals engaged in raunchy activities would arouse me.

Spicer and I, naturally, mocked him for his efforts with a bout of sneering and laughing. Pedrosa tried to explain himself, but eventually gave up and simply complimented my hair and how good it looked braided back.

That’s when Jack mercilessly taunted Pedrosa with the fact that it had been _he_ who had styled my hair. Jack hammered the point home – even going so far as to unbraid and comb my hair with his fingers – that _he_ is allowed the privilege of touching my hair and playing with it.

I took things a step further by pulling Jack close to me and kissing him tenderly.

Pedrosa chose to retaliate by running away, snuffling angry tears.

Hmph. Let’s see….

JACK

Uniquely Beautiful  
Sensual  
Sucks Cock Perfectly  
Creatively Sexual  
Naughty, But Not Nasty  
Acknowledges My Lordly Status  
Genius  
Vicious  
Cunning  
Clever

  
PEDROSA  
Averagely Pretty  
Has All the Seductive Grace of a Frantically Horny Centipede  
Prefers to Have Cock Sucked Rather Than Suck Cock  
“Wham, Bam, Later Dude!”  
Thinks a Porn Magazine is a Perfect Gift  
Extremely Demanding and Pushy  
Street Smart  
Clever on Occasion  
Bitchy and Petty

  
Honestly, is it any _wonder_ I chose Spicer over Pedrosa? Not that the Brazilian twit was even in the running to become my Consort. He is fit only to be used as an outlet for sexual gratification and nothing else. Not that the mental image of Jack fucking himself with a toy for my pleasure while I use Pedrosa isn’t a _pretty_ one….

Hmmm. Jack is strangely still asleep beside me. Normally, when I feel horny, he’ll at least rouse himself partially from sleep to see to my needs. I don’t expect him to give up sleep; I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I suppose I’ve become used to his automatic response by now.

Nothing for it, then, but to do it myself. I shall begin where I left off, with that lovely fantasy of a semi-threesome. I can see it so clearly: Jack posed at the head of the bed, kneeling, his back arched and his cock hard for me to see; his face and throat blushed deep pink with exertion and arousal as he reaches back, fucking himself with the dildo. It’s a struggle, but he keeps his gaze locked with mine because he is making a sexual display of himself for _my_ pleasure. Beneath me, gagged so I needn’t listen to him, is Pedrosa. He is on his elbows and knees, his ass raised for me to use, and he is rolling his hips in short, lewd circles as I fuck him hard and fast, making use of him as I watch the gorgeous spectacle of my Consort make himself desperate for my touch. Pedrosa is whimpering, leaning slightly toward Jack, so aroused he actually _wants_ to suck cock for a change, but I will _not_ allow it. He is not worthy of touching a man as lovely as my Jack. He is there only so I have something to fuck while watching my beautiful Consort.

Oh, _yes_ … that will do _nicely_.

Now, where is the lube…?


	280. Friday, October 16, 707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 13

  
Perhaps Jack _did_ sense my desire last night, but was simply too tired (for once) to act on it.

He certainly made up for lost time this morning! >=]

Raimundo’s visit yesterday clearly set the theme for today. We added to our “home video collection” but with a twist: I requested non-moving images or, simply, “stills” of us together in bed. Jack brought out a camera he’d long ago created, but didn’t use much. It is a slender tube of a thing, but with a wide lens that captures more than it appears it would.

We took several landscape shots of the two of us having sex that Jack will then use a software program to edit later. The images are in perfect detail, close-up and real-looking; as if the photographs had been taken with our eyes and brains. In particular, I acquired several “Chase-eye-view” photos of Jack pleasuring me, and granted him the same gift in return by “posing” long enough while sucking Jack so he could control his trembling hands long enough to take the pictures. The same for when I was inside him and, once, I allowed him to fuck _me_. It is not a privilege I allow often as I’m rarely comfortable enough to allow myself to be _that_ vulnerable.

I don’t think he much cared for it, either. Jack seems much more comfortable being the one fucked rather than doing the fucking – so long as I am his partner, and I am _not_ about to let him test the theory with anyone else!

All in all, it was a good day. I couldn’t resist, though, adding a photograph of a moment that I enjoyed as much as the sex.

I took a photo of the two of us kissing.

I greatly enjoy kissing Jack. I like his flavor, the way he responds… everything about it. His mouth is sensual, masculine… I _really_ like kissing him. So, as we were doing that post-coitus, I snapped the picture.

He seems confused that I want such a thing, but I do. I need more than simply images of us having sex. I know we have that connection.

….So what connection am I searching for? That I need proof of?

Or, do I already know the answer and simply do not want to admit it to myself?

Probably the latter. Oh, how the mighty are fallen.


	281. Saturday, October 17, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 27 (GRAH.)

  
Jack seemed entirely too perky last night as he was writing in his own journal (and I was curious as to what he thought of being allowed to fuck me; hoping to confirm my suspicions?) that I helped myself to his latest entry. Yes, once again, I broke into his journal and read his private thoughts.

I have spent the day sufficiently “freaked out,” as my Consort would say, because he wrote of his eventual mortal death. He inferred that I must want so many snapshots of him because I haven’t anything similar with my previous Consorts and that when he dies, he’ll be leaving behind a legacy with which future Consorts will have to contend.

I would tell him this is pure foolishness except for two things:

1) I would have to admit to invading his privacy and do not want to deal with the snit-fit Jack would most certainly have over that.

2) There will be no future Consorts because _I WILL NOT ALLOW JACK SPICER TO DIE OR OTHERWISE LEAVE ME_.

There will be no talk of Spicer-death because there will be _NO_ Spicer-death!

He is _mine_.

He will not leave me.

I will not suffer the loss of him, ever.

Should I be forced to lose him to mortal death, I will burn this world to a cinder and throw myself to oblivion, soulless as I am.

I cannot lose Jack Spicer, and so, I have spent the day – and will likely spend several more days – researching immortality spells, potions, and similar things. He is not pleased, because he wanted to have more sex, but this… this is far more important.

Damn that boy for scaring me so badly.

Damn everything that I _care_ this much.


	282. Sunday, October 18, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 4 (Better.)

  
I might have accidentally given away my plans to Spicer.

He was working in his lab and I went to see him with a few questions that I needed answers to so I could direct my line of research into immortality. I went to him; wrapped my arms around him and nuzzled the back of his neck because I like the way he shivers when I do that.

I then proceeded to ask him if he cared about learning magic, needed to be able to see the color purple, and did he want to be bound to me so that he could never, ever leave me and/or fuck somebody else?

How many times, now, have I mentioned that Jack is a genius? Well over a dozen, I’m certain.

My Consort is no dummy, that is for certain, and my less-than-cleverly-obfuscated questions has his “Something Is Hinky” radar up and running. Enough so that instead of answering _my_ questions, he began interrogating me.

I simply gave him an arch look and departed his lab. I am not ready to discuss my project with him and I am the Heylin Lord in this mountain. I can be aggravatingly mysterious if I want to be.

Still, I never got those answers. I’m uncertain about the learning magic thing, I’m absolutely certain he’s going to need to be able to see purple if he’s going to continue being a technological scientist, and as for being bound to me… I know he’s in love with me, wants me with every fiber of his being, but that’s because it’s _his_ choice. How badly would he react if I took that choice away from him?

Honestly, Jack makes my head hurt sometimes.


	283. Tuesday, October 20, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 3

  
I am, in turns, supremely flattered and so furious that it is a miracle my head has not exploded from the force of my emotions.

Jack Spicer _drugged_ me yesterday!  >=(

He did it for my own well-being, _however_ … _NOT_ cool, as the little brat would say. That _idiot_ knows how I feel about being drugged! The suffering he underwent after my discovery of what Wuya had done to him, my rage at Katnappé giving me cat ears and a tail without my permission… did _none_ of that make an impact on him?!

….I am being childish. I _know_ he is fully aware of my great dislike of being chemically manipulated. I simply do not _like_ that he did it, even though his defense is that he did it for fear I was doing myself harm.

At some point during the last day or so, he coaxed me out of my library. He fed me, kept me company… my last memory is of yawning so hard I could feel my jaw crack.

I woke up roughly around midnight this morning and found him, fully-clothed – highly intelligent planning on his part, as I’d have killed him for certain if I’d been given reason to suspect foul play _beyond_ drugging me.

As it stands, I shook him awake and queried him, because I could taste _something_ not quite right. He told me I fell asleep and he put me to bed, but I knew he was obfuscating. I sussed out the truth; literally, sniffed it out when, as I was kissing him (and noting the distinct lack of chemical taste in _his_ mouth!), I brought Jack’s hand up to my face. Damned if that bitter chemical taint wasn’t all over his fingers!

Thought-fast, I had my hand locked around his throat, crushing him down onto the mattress. “You little bitch… you _drugged_ me!”

To Jack’s credit, he did not attempt a lie. He admitted it immediately and, because of that and the fact that he was still fully clothed, I allowed him to explain. He told me of his concern for my health because I’d gone roughly 38 hours without sleep. He told me of my haggard appearance, how obviously I’d been exhausted but refused to stop, and so he forced me to stop for my own sake.

I snarled at him; tested his logic by wondering why he did not simply _ask_ me to stop and go get some sleep?

His logic was sound when he countered with: “ _Would_ you have done it?”

I had very little choice but to admit he was correct. Had he asked me to take my rest, I would have brushed aside his concerns; ignored him at best and pushed him away with hateful words at worst.

By then, I’d taken my hand from his throat, so Jack felt it safe to continue speaking. He said that he couldn’t _tell_ me to get some rest because _I_ am the Heylin Lord and he the underling. He knew the signs of being a “workaholic.” He knew I’d have ruined my health to keep working and he couldn’t stand the thought of it because, if I’m not entirely well, then I’m not entirely protected despite the devotion of my warriors and my Consort.

He was correct, of course. I admitted as much to Jack and he gave me a tentative smile before picking up my hand and pressing a kiss to the palm.

“Don’t… I mean… just… I want you to be okay,” he said to me, nuzzling against my hand. “I don’t wanna have to do that again. I don’t want to do something I know you hate.”

My Jack… he pleases me so.

I proved it by pulling him close to me again; kissed him again. I removed his clothes, but I was in no hurry. I’d never had a Consort who _cares_ for me as he does – willing to risk my temper and death to see to it that I am healthy and whole.

I fu—no.

I did not _fuck_ him.

I made love to Jack; with Jack.

I took my time and he allowed it. He matched me in action and mood, kissed and caressed me as tenderly as I did him. I’m certain he was confused because this is not our norm. When we have sex, usually it is hot and fast; urgent with the almighty need to come!

I wanted more than that. I wanted to luxuriate in having found the perfect Consort to live through eternity with me. I wanted to bask in my sheer good fortune in finding this beautiful, sensual, irritating man to be mine. I wanted to revel in what he makes me feel.

I made love to him, moving hard and deep, moving slow. I kissed him, caressed him, and gave him so much pleasure that he was almost sobbing beneath me even as his hands gripped bruises into my shoulders and back. The intensity of our lovemaking built as I listened to his gasps, his groans; listened to Jack’s sharp, whimpering yelp of my name as he lifted his hips, shuddering, trying to get me to move faster and harder inside him even as he kissed my mouth tenderly.

I lost my senses, then. I didn’t know I still knew the language I spoke to him with. Actively trying to think of a language that’s been dead longer than I’ve been alive, I can barely recall the proper linguistic form, but then, I only needed one word for him.

I named him my beloved.

Jack does not know what I said – he couldn’t know, as he’s more than likely never to have heard the language before. Perhaps he sensed the meaning behind it, or he was already so overloaded with the intimacy of our lovemaking that it was more than he could take.

He came hard, yowling my name, and I was right there with him. It was… sublime.

When my mind cleared, we were lying curled together in bed. I wanted nothing more than to stay that way; to bask in the scent of Jack warm and satiated. His normal method of having sex with me, however, is that if he’s not passed out or in the mood for another round of fucking, he gets up to shower and then gets back into his clothes.

He sat up to do that very thing and I did not let him. Our intimacy would have felt cheapened if I’d let him clean me off of him so quickly. I realize it is because of his fastidious nature about anything sticky or stainable remaining on his skin no longer than necessary, but…

I pulled him back down against me; cuddled him close and though he fidgeted, he eventually settled down and accepted my unspoken demand for non-sexual intimacy.

We fell asleep that way. When I woke up well-rested several hours later, I found we’d been covered with the blankets and I detected Diol’s scent. I am a lucky man to have such devoted minions in my service.

As for me, though I was forced to delay my research, I was right back to it after a hard morning workout. When Jack finally woke up and came to find me, his gaze darkened, but he said nothing, which pleased me. I do not respond well to nagging.

His red eyes brightened again when I asked for more tea, sans sleep drugs this time; my subtle way of saying I knew he wouldn’t do it for any other reason except to keep me healthy and sane, and so I trusted him.

I thought he might very well float to the ceiling, he had such a spring in his step as he walked away! Of course, he jokingly threatened me with a rock to the head if I overdid it again, but he sweetened the threat with tea _and_ brownies, so I shall let him get away with it this time.

I worked the day away, eliminating useless avenues of choice for immortality spells, while Jack did whatever it was that kept him occupied in the lab. When I felt tiredness begin dragging at me, I forced myself to stop and went to bed… only to find Jack already there.

He rewarded me for being sensible with an extravagant back-rub _and_ scalp-rub that had me all but purring and puddle on the mattress in a limp pile of bliss.

Of course, I woke right back up when I felt his touch lighten to something seductive and he began skating his fingers delicately over my skin while telling me, in a husky voice, just how beautiful I am. He praised every part of me, exulting over the shapeliness of my muscles and how strong I am, and the way my limbs fit together with my torso in a lovely display of sleek perfection. He scratched his nails lightly over my hips even as he told me how much he loves to watch me walk; that he’s absolutely entranced with my hips and thighs on occasion.

By then, I was more than a little randy. I rolled onto my back and grinned at him. He grinned back. Then, he got the lube and straddled me. He tried to put it in my hand, but I took only enough so I could slick my cock before handing it back to him. I ordered him to prepare himself and he gave me such a hot and lusty look I’m surprised my hair didn’t burst into flame.

He knelt up on his knees, his eyes heavy-lidded with pleasure as he watched my hand stroke my own cock even as he stretched and slicked himself to receive me. Finally, panting with lust, he leaned forward and braced his hands on my chest. I did him the favor of holding myself steady as he then sat back and slowly, carefully, took me inside him.

Then, as my fingers were still slick with lubricant, I did him another favor and began stroking _his_ cock while he rode me.

We were both far too excited to last terribly long. There was no slow and tender lovemaking this time around. Instead, he rode my erection hard and fast, shuddering every time my cock nudged against his prostate. He rocked his hips back and down, and then forward and up, thrusting his cock into my hand. Jack moved faster, his pleasure rising, his nails digging welts into my thighs as he leaned back for better friction. I jerked my hips upward, giving him the thrusting sensation he loves, and he gave a massive shiver as he snarled, “Fuck! Fuck, yeah! Chase, fuck, yeah!” and then dissolved into unintelligible grunts and gasps as he lost his grip on language altogether.

He came hard, his hips working smoothly back and forth in a thrusting motion that felt _amazing_ on my cock. My chest and throat spattered with his come, I left off stroking him, caught hold of his hips, and lifted him up a bit. Digging my heels in for better leverage, I fucked up into him in short, swift strokes; used the warmth and tightness of him to get myself off and—

Ah… it seems my Consort is not too tired this evening. He has sensed my arousal at remembering our lovemaking – _yes_ , Jack; yes, keep doing that, _NO_ you are not interrupting!

Enough reminiscing for one day. My beautiful Consort and his perfectly wicked tongue are demanding my full attention as of now.


	284. Wednesday, October 21, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 13

  
And so it came to pass that Jack Spicer spent a day on a black sand beach _during_ the daylight hours!

Though there was hardly any daylight to be found. He spent the morning finalizing his project, cleaned himself up, had something to eat, and then came to find me in my library. He very nearly tricked me into revealing my own project, but I caught myself in time.

He then revealed his own machinations to me, quite literally: the weather manipulation device! It was fully complete (or close enough to it for the difference to be negligible) and Jack wanted to test it with me. With one quick swipe of his Tech GTC, we were through a portal to a black sand beach in Hawaii.

The instant my senses registered “sand” and “sea air,” I tried to protect Jack. I pulled him close, covering his head with my arms and hair, making certain his hands were tucked between us. I was confused when he laughed and pushed free of me, until I realized that the cloud cover overhead was thick enough to turn the daylight to dusk dark.

We grinned at each other like fools, stripped naked in a hurry… and fell asleep.

Since Jack had filled the sky with thick clouds after the sun had spent many hours baking the sand supremely warm, we snuggled down into soft-soft black sand and napped together. He’d used his considerable influence with the local government to make certain no one else would attempt using the beach while we were on it, and I would be able to sense anyone that tried to intrude on us and deal with them accordingly.

So, we napped for a couple of hours. When we woke up, we went to play in the ocean, swimming without concern for any natural predators since I am more dangerous than any of them. The few sharks I sensed in the area departed swiftly enough, as did the dolphins and a couple of whales, and all of the fish.

It was pleasant, as saccharine as that sounds, to watch Jack so thoroughly enjoy himself. He’s never been able to enjoy _warm_ ocean water before, or warm beach sand. He’s only ever been able to visit such places at night, long after the sun has set and the day’s residual heat has faded from the water and sand. Thanks to his weather device, he is gliding through warm, salty water without fear after napping blissfully in sun-warmed black sand.

We finally departed the water and returned to our nest. We acquired a coating of black sand, naturally; the stuff sticking to the wet patches on our skin. Brushing it free of each other’s skin turned to caresses, which led to kisses and other delights caused by our mouths, which led to me retrieving the lubricant Jack had stashed in a jacket pocket.

He went to his elbows and knees in the sand, muttering something about how he likes _this_ version much better than alcohol. I can only assume that he was referencing the alcoholic beverage known as a “Sex on the Beach.”

Which we had, most certainly! >=]

I took him from behind, taking my time as I did so. I moved slowly in and out of him, admiring his white skin and red hair against the backdrop of the black sand as I fucked him. Jack made delightful sounds of pleasure as he rocked subtly back into my thrusts even as he reached between his legs to stroke his own cock. I told him how beautiful he was, and then caught him by both arms, pulling him up and back. He couldn’t touch himself; he would come, but only because of _my_ cock fucking him!

I wasn’t so far gone in my delight of making love to my Consort that I didn’t hear the heavy breathing and camera clicking coming from a copse of trees nearly a half-mile away. Some cretin of a photographer, most likely a paparazzo, had sequestered himself there and was taking pictures of us as we made love.

I will see to it that only Pedrosa may glimpse those images. I am curious as to how far he will go to beg me to fuck him after seeing the beauty of Jack helpless against his own pleasure and mine… and ecstatic to be that way.

At the moment, I cared only for the noises Jack was making; the thin, stressed cries as he began squirming against my hold, desperate to move as his lust heightened. Smirking, I pulled him up more, held him back against my chest and turned his head enough that our mouths could meet. Coaxing his hands up to my hair, I allowed him to hold on as tight as he wished, held his hips firmly, and fucked into him hard and fast.

Jack screamed into my mouth as he came, his hands clenching into fists in my hair as he shuddered against me, spilling his come onto the black sand beneath us. I made a low, monstrous sound of pleasure, and took my own orgasm inside him, shivering in the relief of my own desperate lust finally sated.

Afterwards, we dozed together in the sand a bit more before deciding it was time to go. We brushed sand from our skin, got dressed, and then I took some of the black sand for my own purposes. Jack seemed to think it was a sentimental gesture and took some sand for himself as a souvenir, even though he jokingly lectured me on how stealing the sand was _wrong!_

We laughed like fiends over that, thoroughly amused, and finally headed home. I let Jack take the first shower and, while he was doing that, I went back to find that photographer.

Instead of killing him, I paid him a fortune in gold to have the _only_ copies of those photos of Jack and I making love on the beach. I shall make certain Pedrosa gets a copy, just to see how insane with lust and frantic greed I can make him.

As for me, I have a sleepy Consort to bed down with. >=]


	285. Thursday, October 22, 4707

  
Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 11

  
Jack mentioned something at dinner this evening; it is nearly time for All Hallow's Eve. There are roughly nine days to go.

I confess, I'm not much looking forward to it. Every year, when the veil between the living and the dead things, I receive visitors. It is usually past Consorts, and those I have killed or otherwise defeated that did not end up in hell. When I was younger, edging into my third century, I stopped receiving visits from Dashi.

Then again, that could have something to do with me unable to take his perpetual teasing at the time. I lashed out; said the most hateful, hurtful, viciously cruel things I could think of.

His spirit hasn't come near me since. I confess to feeling regret, at long last, if only because I cannot now introduce Dashi to Jack.

Still, Jack seems to want to spend Halloween with me. If we are going to be uninterrupted (as in, not bothered by a multitude of spirits showing up to chastise me for being a Very Bad Boy), then I must leave off my research into immortality spells for Jack to find something that will keep the howling crybaby horde at bay. I've never bothered before, as I consider my ability to withstand the angsty spirits' attempts to berate me a test to be undertaken every year. However, I would rather not subject Jack to that, nor have him begin to doubt me. Actually, I'm certain he would not doubt _me_ , but he might begin to doubt his place at my side, and I'd rather that not happen.

So, I shall get to work on a barrier spell for the two of us. I do not mind overly much. I admit, I was afraid that Jack would want to go Trick or Treating. I don't mind dressing up in costumes on occasion, but not on Halloween. There's something banal about the whole ordeal that I simply cannot stomach.

Although, if Jack wants to play "Dress Up" with solely myself as an audience... perhaps I can convince him to wear his Pharaoh's Pet costume again, or something similar. >=]


	286. Friday, October 23, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 6

  
Will not get that barrier spell figured out at this rate, but given what Jack just did to me and how disgustingly _HAPPY_ I am about it, I can't find it in me to care too much.

There is... oh, I can't even think of the words. All I know is that I was minding my own business when all of a sudden, I found myself _not_ alone in my library. I was half-undressed before I was fully coherent (Jack no longer sets off my 'Be Wary' senses, damn it all) and his hot, wet mouth sucking me. I know full well I screamed in shocked pleasure, and making that noise startled Jack enough to make him let go of me. I scooped him up, hauled him out of the room, shut the door, and pressed him up against the nearest wall.

Me: *between kisses* What has gotten into you?

Jack: Not you. Yet. _Fix_ that, you supremely awesome magnificent evil bastard!

Who can resist such sweet nothings? Especially when, as I was giving him a look that suggested he'd lost his mind, he wrapped his legs around my hips and shimmied urgently while explaining that he'd been contemplating my "evility" and doing so had aroused him quite a bit.

After that, I was more than happy to grant his desire for sex!

I think I need a soak in the tub. My back muscles and thighs are _aching_ from some of the things I did to Jack in the hallway.

A soak in the tub, a glass of fine wine, and a cigar or three. >=]


	287. Saturday, October 24, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 1

  
Spicer has proved himself to be my weakness.

Today… I let my guard down, in several ways.

I went ingredient-hunting for the immortality project. I shall be giving him a potion and casting a series of spells. He, too, will have to engage in this ritual through meditation and chanting prayers, but I believe he’ll put in the effort. That being said, I shall ask Omi to work with him on meditation. Jack does well enough, but he will need to perfect the process if this is to succeed.

Still, I went off and left him, thinking that the only idiots foolish enough to break into my citadel and attempt attacking him would be the monks. Jack is capable of fending them off, and he has my warriors for aid besides.

Never once did I give thought to Bean and Wuya. It has been, literally, _months_ since I saw any trace of activity from them. My thoughts filled with Spicer and immortality, I gave no consideration of them whatsoever.

Imagine my shock at returning to find my warriors unconscious. Naturally, I sensed the spell and power used against them, and knew who had invaded my home.

I went to Jack’s lab and there was Bean, wearing _my_ form! _Damn_ him! He had his hands all over Jack, was coaxing my Consort to forsake me and join _him_ , all while Wuya looked on.

The next thing I remember, I’m locked into fierce combat with the vile demon. I do not clearly recall crossing the large chamber of Jack’s lab. My mind cleared when I felt my ribs break even as a root tendril covered in thousands of tiny, needle-sharp thorns raked across my face. I narrowly avoided being blinded – not that being sightless would have stopped me.

Bean realized I’d fully meant to kill him for what he’d done to Jack; in _my_ home, no less! Then again, it would hardly be a true insult otherwise. I am man enough to acknowledge he scored a hit against me with breaking in and trying to steal Jack, never mind the physical injuries.

Naturally, I gave back _better_ than I got. I tore his arms from his body. True, Bean shall regenerate them, but his pained scream was pure joy to my ears. I gouged flesh from his body and scattered teeth from his head. The cuts, bruises, and broken bones he gave me are paltry compared to what I did to him.

When he escaped, I turned my attention to Wuya, but she had long fled – as had Jack, for which I was thankful. I didn’t _want_ him near that battle, in the midst of three seasoned warriors of unfathomable cruelty.

I teleported directly to the vault where I keep my collection of Shen-Gong-Wu. She must have sensed me coming, for the area was vacant when I arrived, though the rock walls were heavily scorched and scored from her efforts at breaking in. Enrage, I unleashed an expulsion spell, concentrating my intent on Bean and Wuya. From several floors up, I was rewarded with the screaming of a woman in pain; screaming that quickly faded as Wuya was forced from my palace in a hurry.

Re-establishing my defenses, I then turned my attention to my warriors. They were fine, except for headaches. They quickly came around at my urging and just as swiftly sought to help me with my injuries. While some patrolled the palace, searching for Bean and Wuya’s entry point, Diol and others shifted into their human forms to make me healing potions and ointments.

My newly knit-together ribs are still tender, but the black eye and the grotesquely shredded flesh of the cuts across my face are gone. I was well enough in appearance to go check on Spicer.

Imagine my surprise to find his door locked against me. When I asked if he was alright, I heard a muffled, hysterical sound that was part laugh, part sob.

I was, quite plainly, terrified. I teleported into his room, catching him by surprise. I startled him even further when I went to him; cuddled him there on his bed, the both of us fully clothed. I tried to get him to talk about it, but he refused.

Eventually, I left him alone. It was clear that he _needed_ to be alone. As curious and wrathful as I was, I had no urge to traumatize a young man already clearly traumatized enough.

So, here I am – alone in my own bed. My warriors have had their own medicine to quell their headaches, I have taken more healing potion, and I am… alone.

I want Spicer with me.

He will not come out of his room.

I will murder Hannibal Roy Bean as violently and painfully as I know how.


	288. Sunday, October 25, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 16

  
I did not want to be without Spicer last night. While he slept, I took him from his room and brought him to mine so that _I_ could get some sleep. I woke before he did and, when he woke up, I was there with him, holding him.

I’m not certain how far, precisely, Bean went with manhandling him. That is why I took care to have us both wearing clothing, if not armor and shoes. I don’t want him to think I took advantage of him while he slept – though I did begin kissing and nuzzling him once he woke up. Soft little touches of my lips to his skin; nothing invasive, nothing forceful. I do not want to terrorize my beautiful Consort, after all!

I tried to coax him into talking to me again. I promised him that I would listen to anything he had to tell me, but it was no use. I could see him gathering tension inwards, protecting his inner most thoughts. Rather than make him ill with worry, I decided instead to remind him that he is my Consort. Not only does that mean I give a damn about how he is, but that means he cannot behave in so isolated a manner, for whatever affects him thus affects me.

Jack looked at me consideringly for a long moment. I let him look; hoped that if he felt he could look upon me and not sense defensiveness from me, he would open up. He did not, and that worried me. I then asked him if he honestly believed anything a consummate trickster like Bean and a witch scorned like Wuya had to say?

That seemed to spur something in him. He kissed me, thanked me, and said he was already starting to feel a lot better. Not well enough to want to have sex, but then again, it wasn’t what I wanted at the moment, either.

We spent another hour or so, cuddling in bed before bathing and departing for breakfast which my warriors had thoughtfully made for us.

Jack seems more stable, but I admit to still being worried about him.


	289. Monday, October 26, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 12

  
All is finally well again in this place, with Spicer, and between me and Spicer.

It came about while we were curled up in bed this morning. Neither of us had gotten up to start our day in earnest, though at one point and then another, we both left the bed to brush our teeth. Neither of us is that fond of morning breath, or fuzz on our teeth and tongues.

With clean mouths, we simply curled up in bed again, both of us in the mood to be lazy. That lasted for a little while, but I really do enjoy kissing Spicer quite a bit and I find it difficult at the best of times to ignore the silent siren call of his soft skin. So, we were curled together in bed, stroking each other lazily and kissing the same way.

I, however, quickly wanted more. I began touching him in earnest lust, eliciting sounds of pleasure from Jack. All signs pointed to “yes,” so to speak, but I wanted to make absolutely certain he was fully ready for sex with me after what Bean did to him using _my_ form. I stopped touching and kissing him, which quickly earned me a confused scowl, but I got right to the point. After all, I wanted to be having sex as much as he seemingly did.

Me: Are you sure you’re alright with this?

Jack: *confused expression* Yeah…why wouldn’t I be?

Me: After what happened with Bean, I’m not certain. You are… agreeable to sexual touching?

Jack: *lascivious grin and eyebrow bounce* Mmm-hmm.

Me: *looks at Consort seriously* Spicer…Jack… Tell me honestly: did he touch you?

Jack: Yeah, he touched me, you saw him – Oh. _Ohhhh,_ you mean, did he…? No! No, no, he didn’t do anything like that! I mean, he might’ve if he’d stuck around longer, but nothing _happened._

Me: *looks at Consort some more, then gives a relieved sigh* Good; I’m glad.

After that, I had sex with Jack. Or, to be more precise, I made love with him. I confess I am uneasy with how much I feel when I am intimate with him. It isn’t a simple need for release anymore. I want him to enjoy himself far more than I am concerned about my own eventual climax. I want to taste every inch of him, I want to hear his voice and never forget the sound of it. I want to look into those glorious red eyes of his and see only his affection for me in them. I want to be first in everything he thinks about, everything he does. I want to own him, command him, in every way possible; more than I do already. I crave him and fear for him so much I feel at times I might die from the intensity of it.

We slept for a while afterwards, but my dreams were dark and dreadful things featuring the ruin and loss of my Consort. Thus, when we woke again, I once more questioned Jack on the incident because I was not yet willing to ignore his reluctance to give me answers.

Again, he gave me no direct answers, but he seemed to be in a _much_ better mood. While I will be the first to admit that I really am _that good_ in bed, something else is at work, here. However, Jack is in no mood to tell me what he’s thinking and instead provided me with teasing obfuscation. He told me that he _had_ been having a “mini-meltdown,” but that he was fine, now.

Naturally, I queried as to why he felt so, and he simply smiled at me before saying, “Because I think there’s more than a small chance that he’s dead-wrong.”

I have a theory that Bean (and Wuya) had been trying to grind it into him that he could not depend on me to protect him, to cherish him, or to keep him. If my theory is correct, then I may relax, since it seems that Jack’s faith in me is unshaken.

I truly do not understand the way the universe works sometimes. I have been a miserable, hateful, vile monster for 1,500 years… and yet, I am rewarded with Jack Spicer and his unwavering devotion to me.

Believe me, though, I am _**NOT**_ complaining about it.


	290. Tuesday, October 27, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 7

  
Today, I discovered just how much my being nearly as intelligent as Jack is turns said person on.

We were having breakfast together; a leisurely moment as we both ate our respective meals and let our brains play with numbers games. Jack was solving “unsolvable” mathematical equations just for fun while I was playing an old Sudoku pattern created a few hundred years ago. It was a large puzzle, with squares upon squares in knots and patterns that would drive an average mortal insane trying to find the starting point.

Jack noticed what I was doing and it became obvious very quickly just how aroused he was becoming at the fact that not only was I intelligent, but I was almost _his_ level of intelligence, and that I was easily playing a numbers game. I made him watch as I filled in about one-third of the puzzle with ease.

That’s when he informed me that he was going to our bedroom and, if I followed him, I would be richly rewarded with absolutely lewd and sexual favors.

I took him up on his offer.

It is now roughly five in the evening. I’ve been passed out for four hours after six hours of near-constant sexual play. My true plans for the day – creating a barrier spell against vengeful spirits on All Hallow’s Eve – once again went down the tubes. Once again, I cannot bring myself to care too awfully much.

I am the most blessed monster on the planet!


	291. Wednesday, October 28, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 19

  
I dodged a bullet today, as the saying goes. It seems that Stone called his baby brother to invite said brother and myself to a Halloween party – apparently, the “Event of the Year!” other than Foley’s birthday gala we attended only last month where we also played dress-up.

Jack told me he turned down the invitation on both our behalf, wanting to spend Halloween with me and only me. He envisions a quiet night in, watching scary movies, eating candy, and generally relaxing.

I’m not so certain we’ll have any relaxation time. It is now too late for me to acquire the items needed for a barrier spell. We _will_ be visited by vengeful fallen enemies and discarded Consorts. I know _I_ can handle it, but what about Jack?

I suppose we’ll find out.

However, not all is to be wary of! Jack went on a baking spree today. Tarts were the theme. Between these baked goodies and upcoming Halloween candy, I’m going to have to put in more time on my workouts to keep from gaining weight.


	292. Friday, October 30, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Monks: One is getting on my nerves.  
Cupcakes: 5

  
I woke up exhausted today, but that is largely due to the enthusiastic sex-having that Jack inflicted on me last night.

Not that I was fighting him off or anything equally ridiculous.

I don’t know what got his Irish up, so to speak, and he won’t tell me – but he was in a very affectionate mood last night even when we were not actively having sex. I fell asleep more content than I have ever been and that is saying a _lot_.

I am, however, also annoyed with him. His sudden spate of “Drop everything and fuck me NOW!” all this week has made it impossible to learn and implement a reliable barrier spell against the vengeful dead. I had hoped I might have time to churn one up yesterday, but no-o-o-o-o. I took a break from working on my own project to ransack a library in middle Europe for possible useful spells. I returned from my mission empty-handed and soon found my hands filled in quite a different manner!

Ah, well… nothing for it. I have warned Jack of what to expect and instructions on how to deal with the spirits that will be visiting us:

1) Ignore them as much as possible. It only makes things worse to acknowledge their presence.

2) They are not tangible, so do not believe any of their threats of physical mayhem. It is impossible for them to directly cause us harm.

3) Do not listen to any of the more attractive spirits that arrive. Past Consorts always seem to lead the pack, rather annoyed at their (usually) abrupt dismissal from my service. They will, more than likely, take issue with me having a new Consort and will try to drive him mad with their spiteful jealousy.

4) Do not listen to the non-attractive ones, either. They are simply out to hurt anyone they can in this residence, however they can.

5) If a retort to their taunting must be given, construct said retort around the fact that they are _dead_. Nothing frustrates them and sends them away for a good long sulk like that little tidbit.

6) Try to stay close to your overlord, for he has many years of experience in dealing with the gibbering dead twits.

Spicer seems to have taken these instructions seriously, though I saw his red eyes sharpen and focus. He is thinking of something, plotting or planning for something. I don’t know what, but I feel safe in assuming that it is nothing that will go against me.

Now, there is nothing to do but wait for _Yulanjié_ ; the Hungry Ghost Festival. While _Teng Chieh_ is more appropriate for this time of year, it will not work with the hordes that will be arriving to visit tomorrow night. With _Teng Chieh_ , living people place food and water before photographs of the dead in offering, and then light lanterns and bonfires to help the spirits find their way home. This is also the time when paper lantern boats are set afloat with auspicious messages and prayers, parties are had, people get drunk and dance the night away, and generally have a good time _for_ the dead who can no longer participate.

I would rather the spirits that have issue with me _not_ find their way to me and most of them lived and died before photographs were invented. While I could skirt that fact with sketching their likenesses, I don’t even remember what they looked like until they show up. Selective amnesia helps fend off insanity for those of us with exceedingly long life spans. Jack will have to learn the trick himself if he is to survive the long years of eternity with me.

Back to the problem at hand!

The Hungry Ghost Festival is held, usually, in July. I choose to ignore it – and Jack never brought it up, either, so I’m going to guess either he is not aware of it or simply doesn’t care – until this time of year, when it will be far more useful.

Towards dusk, which is earlier in the day now that the solar year is coming to a close, I will begin laying out the feast for the dead. I have learned that only by doing this do I gain _any_ measure of peace from them. While I do not really care about the not-so-dear and not-so-departed, I wish for Jack to be left alone as much as possible.

….It’s going to have to be a truly extravagant feast, with plenty of wine and liquor. The burning of paper money might be implemented, as well. Time will tell. While I wish to keep Jack as content as possible, I cannot show weakness to the raving dead. They will begin arriving early in the day, but the feast cannot take place until darkness has arrived.

Speaking of arriving, Diol has just now appeared to inform me of a visiting Xiaolin monk. I shall leave Jack to sleep and deal with this intrusion.

 **Edited to Add:**

It was Pedrosa. I had figured it might be him, but I had not counted on what I saw. He came to me to invite me to the Halloween party the young Dragons are going to be having.

He modeled his costume for me, which I _seriously_ doubt he’ll be wearing in front of his best friend, his supposed girlfriend, and the elder monks.

He was wearing low-slung black leather pants and nothing else… except South American tattoos, a black leather collar, and a chain leash.

I confess, he had my attention.

Pedrosa offered to let me give him a “test run” to see how well his “Halloween Costume” performed. He offered me control of his leash and, while I did take it, I ordered him to keep his distance. He did so, but he began to sway and move in the subtle rhythm of dancing. So, I made him dance, held at the end of a leash. He swirled his hips, flicked them; shimmied and flexed with the grace of one who has spent his entire life in motion and learning the arts of flexibility. He was very, very pretty to look at, I must admit; pretty and alluring, and I found myself responding with interest.

However, when he went to his knees before me, reaching for the tie-strings of my trousers, I threw the leash back to him and stepped away. I am tired, I have much work to do tomorrow. If I dallied with Pedrosa, I would then have to shower before returning to the bed where Jack was sleeping, and if I showered, I would then be awake for hours.

He took the rejection badly, as he usually does. He shouted at me; told me that _I_ was the one on a leash, dancing to the whims of a master of my own. He fled the beating I lunged forward to give him, flying away quickly. I glared after him for a moment before returning to bed. I shall make him pay for his insolence; not tonight and certainly not tomorrow, but the day after.

Now, I must meditate. I need to release the rage Pedrosa’s vicious words have raised in me if I am to get any rest at all.

And to keep from waking Jack to _prove_ who is the master in our relationship.


	293. Saturday, October 31, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Monks: Still irritating!  
Cupcakes: 37 (I'm allowed! I've had a rough day!)

  
Oh, the dead… they started the harassment _early_.

I was up just before dawn, enjoying a shower. I had cleansed myself and decided to ease my morning hard-on with a solitary session.

I hadn’t even gotten halfway into it when a Mongol warrior, displaying the fatal wounds I had given him that led him to his ghostly existence, showed himself in my shower. He did his level best to make me believe that my penis is naught but a tiny worm, not even fit for minnow fishing.

It is difficult to take such a statement seriously when I am large and impressive enough while _flaccid_ that eyebrows go up and eyes widen at the sight of me.

Still, I was in no mood to put on a show for the dead soldier, so I exited my shower – only to discover my most recent former Consort harassing Spicer! Noemi, who had died in a car bombing, was snarling and sniping at Jack for daring to be in _my_ bed… and then, when she discovered who he was, she tried to turn him against me!

She brought up the fact that, at the time I’d been fucking _her_ , I had considered Jack a worthless annoyance that ought to have been put out of my misery. Jack was understandably upset until I pointed out that it was the way I _used_ to think of him, but that was _then_ and this is _now_.

The qualifier mollified him, and so Jack accepted my explanation and went off to work on whatever projects he has going. I, myself, would have liked to have worked some more on the immortality project, but I want the dead nowhere near my work area. I do not want them to spill the proverbial beans to Jack, nor do I want them to distract me at a crucial moment.

Too, there is the fact that I am still seething from Pedrosa’s insult last night. How _dare_ that fake-monk, that dirty little _whore_ , that cock-hungry slut imply that _I_ have been collared and leashed by _Jack Spicer?_ Yes, Jack is my preferred Consort! Yes, I do care about him – far more than any other person I’ve ever allowed close to me. But _he_ is not the master! _I_ am! I am the one who holds _his_ leash; he is the one who wears a collar for _me!_

When I hunt Pedrosa down tomorrow, I will teach him the error of insulting a Heylin _Lord_.

For now, all is well. Jack is in high spirits (pun not intended); practically bouncing from walls to ceilings to floors and back again in his giddiness. I had spent the day fending off my would-be tormenters and Jack, I assume, dealt well enough with them on his own as he did not come crying to me for help.

When it was time for the Feast of Hungry Ghosts, I went looking for him in his lab, only to find him wide-eyed and startled as he faced off against two former lovers of mine; a Xiaolin Monk of roughly 700 years ago and a prostitute from a century ago. I have no idea what they said to make him look startled and _happy_ , and none of the three of them have said a word.

I made them leave Jack be, anyway; invited them all up for the Feast and Jack was staggered at the sumptuous food display. We all sat down to the table – Spicer and I sat, the ghosts did the best they could – and dinner commenced. Food and alcohol were physically consumed by the living while the dead pretended to eat and conversed with one another. Most of it was talking _about_ me as though I weren’t present and they were not seated at _my_ table.

Now I remember why I killed the lot of them: most of them had no sense of hierarchical capitulation and duty.

Finally, the day ended. My deceased, uninvited guests were forced to depart once more for the Afterlife. I ordered my warriors to clean up the remains of dinner, to help themselves to any leftovers they wanted, and then walked out.

Jack was in the mood for sex (not unusual) whereas I was not (unusual). I told him the truth: that I had things I needed to think about and that I needed to meditate on them.

It is now very late – I began writing this entry at a few minutes before midnight and it is now well after midnight. The thinned barrier between the mortal realm and the spirit world once more solidified and strengthened. The only ghostly white thing left in this palace is my lover, currently curled up in my bed and snoring.

I am unresolved in my need to dominate Pedrosa. I suspect that will not be fixed until I pay him a visit tomorrow and fracture a few bones for him as a reminder to watch his mouth around me.

It doesn’t help anything that I have the most bestial urge to throw him to the ground, follow him down, and fuck him into a coma. While I certainly can fuck him if I choose to – knowing that he would hardly turn me away – I do not want to resort to such violent sexual tendencies when I can simply best Pedrosa in hand-to-hand combat instead.

Gods damn that arrogant, upstart, back-alley whore.


	294. Sunday, November 1, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Monks: Apparently as slutty as ever.  
Cupcakes: 0

  
Today… I fucked Pedrosa.

It has been a while since I used anyone else to get myself off. I hadn’t actually _intended_ to fuck him.

However, when I went to the Xiaolin Temple today to teach him a lesson for the insult he dealt me, the first thing he did upon sight of me was smirk and say, “Huh. The bitch let you off your leash for the day?”

I was furious. I don’t… really remember what I said, but whatever it was, it provoked him to insult me more. Pedrosa said something along the lines of me being pussywhipped by Spicer, my _cojones_ in a jar belonging to a weak white whore.

The next thing I clearly recall, we were on the floor and Pedrosa’s clothing had been shredded away from him. I was kissing him even as my hand was stroking along his hard cock, and he was groaning with pleasure. He sucked my tongue and bucked his hips, fucking my fist eagerly.

I pulled away and he looked at me. I could see it in his green eye; he fully expected me to go running back to Spicer. Actually, I wanted to drag him _to_ Spicer and have the _both_ of them in my bed.

Instead, wildly aroused, I made do with the whore I had immediately at hand.

I shed my clothes and then straddled Pedrosa’s torso. I watched as he eagerly sucked my cock despite the uncomfortable position. His tongue felt good; his mouth better. It was hot and wet as he lavished my cock with hungry attention.

When I felt enough time had been spent on this activity, I pulled away. I ordered him to his hands and knees, and when he’d done so, I got behind him. I pulled his cheeks apart and bent to slick him open with my tongue. He went wild with arousal, rocking his hips back and forth in minute thrusts, his fingers digging into the dirt of the garden I was taking him in; he made greedy sounds and kept muttering, “So good, _Minino!_ So good, yeah, that’s it, lick me, lick me out _good_ , get it ready for your big cock, baby!”

I knelt up behind him, put the head of my erection against his hole, and began pushing in. It wasn’t ideal; no true lubricant and he was no longer as loose as he’d been when we had fucked regularly. I pushed into him slowly, forcing my way inside even as he groaned and panted, and flexed to take me in as fast as he could.

I bent over and nuzzled his ear, still pushing into him, and said, “I am on no _leash_ , my little cock-hungry slut. I fuck whoever I want, whenever I want.”

He agreed, thrusting his hips back at me, and begged me to fuck _him_ and to want it _now_. He rolled his hips to ease the pressure of my hardness feeding into him, making cries of pleasure and pain.

I continued to sink my hard cock deep into him, thrilled at the feel of a different body around it for the first time in a while, but I had more to say, too.

“I am fucking you now because I _choose_ to, but know this: If I had to choose between you and Spicer, _he_ would win every time. _I_ have leashed _him_ – not the other way around!”

He gave up talking, then, and so did I as I began to fuck in and out of him. I had him there in a secluded garden at the Xiaolin Temple in broad daylight. I looked down at him, watching my hard cock shove in and out of his ass, his hips thrusting eagerly back and forth to make me go deeper, harder. He reached beneath himself to take hold of his own cock, stroking quickly, and soon he was coming hard. The sensation of his orgasm and his muffled howls of pleasure brought me off, too.

I had him again and again, spending hours reminding him why _I_ am the master and others are my servants. I made him crawl for me, beg for the privilege of sucking my cock. He did anything I asked with the promise of being fucked by me and I delivered my promise. Finally, on the verge of collapsing, I had him again one last time.

He was on his back, his legs high in the air and spread wide for my pleasure. I fucked him, hard, quickly, wanting only to come so I could go home and look at my beautiful Consort. Pedrosa came and I… I pulled out and came all over his face; a blatant insult.

I thanked him for his services and said that I would recommend him to others of my kind who were in the market for an excellent whore. He gave me such a vile and hateful look that I laughed.

I returned home, showered, and took a nap after leaving a note for Jack on the bedside table that I was tired, so he could join me for sleep if he wanted, but I was not up for anything else.

It is now late evening and I have woken to find myself alone in bed and the note undisturbed. It is unusual, but I’m certain he is simply working. He was in a frenzy of giddiness yesterday and is undoubtedly burning off some of that energy.

As for me, I am still tired. I believe I’ll get a bit more sleep and then go coax him into a nap of his own if he’s still working when I wake up again.


	295. Monday, November 2, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Monks: GRAH.  
Cupcakes: 0

  
 **I DO NOT BELIEVE THIS!**

I do **_NOT_** believe this is happening!

I woke up this morning and found that Spicer had not come to bed last night – because he had _MOVED OUT!_

It seems that when he could not find me yesterday, he got worried, and used the Eye Spy Orb that _I_ ever so foolishly taught him how to use!

He watched me fuck Pedrosa! Which I found out about when he asked me where I was, and I said I’d been attending to personal business, and he flat-out _told_ me that he knew what my personal business had been!

And now, _he_ has left _me_ without permission! He packed up his things and left; called it quits because _he_ cannot handle the fact that I occasionally might fuck someone _other_ than him!

Now!

After all this time, after knowing full well that I do not confine myself to one sex partner!

I was directly in the middle of a rant, calling him a moron in every way I knew how… and he _SLAPPED_ me.

Yes! Jack Spicer had the nerve to slap _me_ across the face as hard as he could!

I was so shocked by his temerity that I froze instead of killing him outright. It is the only thing that saved him, because he used the time he had acquired to explain that he no longer met the requirements of a Consort; that he could _not_ accept me fucking other people, not when he loved me so much. He had thought he was alright with it, up until he saw me actively having sex with another. Once he saw that, he knew he could not handle it and, since he had failed his duty as my Consort, he took it upon himself to remove himself from the post to free it up for somebody else more worthy.

 _Then_ he asked me to leave; to get out and leave him the hell alone.

I left, of course. Had I stayed, I’d have done something so reprehensible that I could not have lived with myself afterward. I’m not certain _what_ … only that I knew it would be horrible, given the ferocity of emotional tumult I was experiencing.

I called him a dolt because he fucking well _IS ONE_ and left.

That puerile nincompoop! That arrogant, gods-damned _crybaby!_ He has _known_ for the entire time we’ve been together that I am a Heylin Lord and, should I want to fuck anyone else, I damned well _will!_ Now, simply because he has _seen_ it happen, he cries about it and runs away?

He leaves me without permission?

He _slaps_ me?

This insult shall not stand. He _is_ my Consort until _I_ say he isn’t! He is _mine_. I would not have gone to so much trouble to craft an immortality spell for him if he were not! I cannot stomach the thought of living through the years without him – especially if my reaction to _this_ minor loss of him is tell-tale enough of what I would suffer for a longer duration!

Jack Spicer is _mine_.


	296. Tuesday, November 3, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Monks: Feeling Spicer's wrath (Pedrosa, anyway); can't say I care much.  
Cupcakes: 0

  
I will _kill_ him for this.

….I _ought_ to kill him for this!

He broke Pedrosa’s neck to the point of paralyzing him, infected Katnappé with arousal-blocking nanites...

… _AND BLEW UP MY HOME_.

I will make him suffer for this outrage, definitely. I won’t kill him; I still want him, I want to keep him. I love the cretin! I do not much _like_ him right now, but when I actively think about murdering him, I feel like puking.

The only thing that has truly kept me from doing so, however, is that none of my warriors were killed in the event of Spicer’s dynamite-fueled temper tantrum. Had I lost one of them – had it been _Diol_ injured – then I would have had no choice but to slaughter Spicer.

As it is, I’m going to paddle his backside so hard he can’t sit for a week. He thinks I’ve hurt him by having sex? He thinks _that_ was torture? Oh, no… he hasn’t suffered the torture I’m capable of. He’ll be lucky if I don’t bruise his backside, chain him to his knees, and force him to watch as I fuck a parade of people in front of him – and that is _after_ I destroy every robot he has ever created, plus his favorite set of tools!


	297. Wednesday, November 4, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 0

  
Spicer is home.

Not because he wanted to be, but because I forced him to be.

Cannot… think. I cannot think properly right now.

Still feeling urge to kill – to murder someone the way I did the whore Jack was fucking when I went to the Spicer mansion.

 **_HE WAS FUCKING ANOTHER MAN. FUCKING HIM WITHOUT MY PERMISSION!_ **

I don’t… my head hurts. I need to kill, I need to dominate… I need to fuck.

Jack won’t let me touch him.

I’m going to go… beat something up. No, I’ll raise that whore from the dead and kill him again; again and again and again, listening to his gurgling shrieks of pain!

I cannot focus. I _need_. I feel lost, out of control.

I must have control! I _MUST_ have control!


	298. Thursday, November 5, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 0

  
I must come up with something that will hurt Jack Spicer terribly. At the very least, enrage him as much as he has done to me.

I went to speak with him this morning, finally. I’d calmed enough to be able to speak coherently, so I went to his bedroom. I’d taken him there in nothing but his clothing after I’d ordered him to get dressed. Specifically, after I’d thrown him into a wall and had torn his would-be lover apart, I then called him a whore as I told him to get dressed. I brought him home, locked him in his bedroom, and went to work off my rage.

Today, I was calm enough to bitch him out for his long list of mistakes in this whole ugly incident… only for him to imply that I would have _raped_ him had he stayed anyway, because he would not have given _his_ permission to touch him! He told me I’d have raped him! As if I would have touched him had he said no!

That hurt me to my core. I left in an instant because I was already tensing to rip his head from his shoulders. I _ran_ before I could follow through on it!

I must make him pay for this. He _must_ suffer.


	299. Friday, November 6, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 3 (victory cupcakes!)

  
 _HA!_

I _got_ him; I got him back for the hurt and insult he dealt me.  >=]

I reminded Jack that he owes me 13 favors of my choosing thanks to the deal we made in January; that if I obtained Shen-Gong-Wu for him to study, he would owe me a favor of my choosing, no matter what. He essentially signed a blank check when he made that deal and now it has come back to bite him in the ass, almost literally.

I could see it on his face. He _hated_ me at that moment; loathed me so much that, had he been armed with a suitable weapon, he’d have attempted to kill me.

I used a favor to get him to _stay_ here. He had no choice but to agree. If he reneged, he’d have lost his cache of respect he’d finally built up. I’d have seen to it that he was “blacklisted” as a traitor of the worst sort amongst my fellow monsters. I’d have ruined him until his only option would have been death, and he knew it.

Hence why, even as he agreed, he gave me a look of such vile loathing that it made me shiver with excitement and arousal.

I want him. I would give almost anything to be buried balls-deep in him at this very moment, fucking him to climax while he glares hatred at me. Angry sex can be amazing sometimes. I would give it to him so good, he’d lose his mind with pleasure – and then, while he’s vulnerable, I’d coax him back to me with whatever words were necessary.

Gods help me, I’d even promise to keep my penis away from anyone else… and I’d _mean_ it.

What has he done to me that I would change so much of myself to suit his emotional needs as well as his physical ones?


	300. Saturday, November 7, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 1

  
I am disgusted with myself.

For all my threats of retaliation, for all my craving to make him cry with pain, I never intended it to be true _physical_ vengeance. Jack’s body is far too delicate to withstand physical abuse. Any torment I’d have put him through – _have_ put him through – would be psychological torment only.

And yet, I managed to break his wrist in my fury.

It happened, apparently, when I’d gone to his house only to find him riding the cock of another man. I’d expected the bruising to his back from the way he hit the wall. I had not counted on hurting him any further. I did, though – when I grabbed his wrist to teleport him back to the mountain palace. I clamped down too hard and jerked his limb too roughly. I fractured his wrist and _left_ him like that for days!

I hadn’t known until now, but that does not excuse the fact that I… hmph. I have mangled and broken Consorts before. I have even taken pleasure in doing so. That I have injured Spicer makes me feel low and unworthy.

Gods damn him! Gods _damn_ him for making me love him this much!

He has _RUINED_ me!

Grah! My head hurts.

I have had a subtle monitoring spell on him since I brought him back, not trusting him to actually remain, even though he gave his word. I was working on the demolished section of the palace, repairing the breach, when the spell alerted me to Spicer’s intense physical pain.

I went to him immediately and discovered him curled up in a ball around his wrist, shuddering and crying and damned near puking from the pain.

I sat him upright, investigated the injury, and healed it. I discovered how it had happened and… I think _I_ lost my mind. I apologized to him; told him I’d never intended to hurt him.

Then, because I could not stomach the fact that I’d done so, I ran from him _again_.

Gods help me, but I am no longer a lord of evil – how can I be, when my only desire, my only focus, is to make Jack love me again?


	301. Sunday, November 8, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Monks: Foolish and damnably annoying.  
Cupcakes: 2

  
I have not seen Spicer today which, I suspect, is a good thing for both of us.

He is still in emotional agony and I want to have sex. If this keeps up too much longer, I am going to have to go find someone to slake my lust on. It won’t be either Pedrosa or Katnappé, since Jack saw fit to make them useless for sex.

Personally speaking, I’d rather _not_ seek anyone else out. I want _him_ ; I want to have sex with Jack. He, unfortunately, does not want me to touch him, ever.

As for why I never went near him today, well, that would be due to Tohomiko’s interference. She was _not_ happy with what Jack did to Pedrosa. She came to the mountain to _kill_ him.

I got in the way.

She caused quite a bit of damage to my home and, surprisingly, to me. I have spent the hours since I sent her back to the Temple, a broken and bleeding pile of meat, ingesting potions and anointing my skin with cream to recover from the burns she gave me.

I would never have thought she cared about Pedrosa _that_ much, especially since he could barely get it up for her, whereas he was a panting and writhing whore for anyone with a decent-sized cock.

Before she lost consciousness, and before I sent her back, I advised her to allow Bailey to court her as he’d clearly wanted to do for a long time. I advised her that she would be less likely to be injured in so drastic a manner on a regular basis if she were not with someone Jack hated with every fiber of his being.

And then, I sent her back.

So, here I am, in my bath; alone and wanting Jack. I want to have sex with him, yes, but I want the closeness we’d built together and shared together prior to this… mistake.

I would seek out a time machine to undo this mess if there were proof that I already had, such as me showing up to stop myself from fucking Pedrosa. However, it is beyond obvious that I was fated to do this thing and so must make the best of a horrible situation, no matter how much I hate it.


	302. Monday, November 9, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Monks: Officially disbanded. Good riddance.  
Cupcakes: 13

  
Again, I did not see Jack.

This is largely to do with my vanity as it took longer than I expected for the burnt hair to grow back and the burns to fade away.

I have it from my warriors, though, that Jack is beginning to show extreme signs of restlessness. I suspect that either tomorrow or the day after, I shall have to bring him toys to keep him occupied or actually let him out to do something.

If he tries to run, the result won’t be pretty. If he activates my hunter-killer instinct to run down prey…

Please, gods, do _not_ let it come to that.

 _Please_.

In other news, Guan stopped by today. He is full of despair that, between us, Jack and I have managed to destroy this generation of Xiaolin Dragons. I took Omi as a defeated warrior and Kimiko is in much the same condition as Pedrosa. With time and therapy, she’ll regain the ability to walk, though one of her arms had to be amputated and her wigs will now be used permanently since I burn-scarred her scalp so badly.

Bailey has decided to “Git while the gittin’s good” and is heading back to Texas, taking Tohomiko and Pedrosa with him so they can rest and recuperate as best they can. I suspect that Bailey will also be doing his level best to get hold of Heal Me Juice for his friends, though it will be by illegal channels since Jack put the injunction against the HMJ being allowed anywhere near Pedrosa. Still, this generation of “Do-Gooders” fall so far from the mark of actual Good, I shan’t be surprised at the ease with which they turn to crime.

The Xiaolin Dragons are finished for now. Ordinarily, Spicer and I would be celebrating this turn of events, but…

*sigh*


	303. Tuesday, November 10, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 0 (must ration)

  
I could have handled that better.

I was told last night – after I’d finished my entry detailing yesterday’s events – that Spicer wished to talk to me, so I had him brought to the throne room for an audience.

We talked, wherein he requested something to do. Instead of being cool, calm, and collected, I lashed out at him and told him that he wasn’t given anything to do in order to keep him from damaging my home or escaping. When he said he’d sworn to stay because of our deal, I made things worse by calling his honor into question. I reminded him of how little his word could be trusted – at least, that’s the way it was a _year_ ago. Ever since he became my Consort, Jack acquired honor of his own. I cannot say he would break his word now.

And yet, that is exactly what I said.

He said nothing; simply turned around to leave. I made him stop, and then asked in what role did he request this favor from me?

He replied that it was as my prisoner.

So, now he has something to do.

He has a television in his room that is fixed to play _only_ Daytime TV.

Horrible, rotten little monster!

Why can’t I let him go? It would be better for both of us, clearly.

Is it because I want him only because he is being denied to me? Is it that I have obsessively fixated on him because I see him as a challenge?

Considering how badly I ache at night, the way my heart clenches and my eyes sting as I look at the unoccupied half of my bed, I do not think it is simply an obsession.


	304. Wednesday, November 11, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 0 (must ration)

  
Perhaps giving him the television was a bad idea.

He has discovered one of the revenge schemes I enacted a day or so ago to get back at him for hurting me _and_ to fix it so Jack has nowhere to go.

He has discovered he is _dead_.

Jack is understandably upset, but what’s done is done. The world believes him gone. The company he created he left to Foley and Stone, along with his money. The Spicer mansion is under the proviso that if Stone doesn’t want it and its contents, then it is to be burnt to the ground using jet fuel so that nothing is retrievable afterward – largely to thwart Martin and Sylvia Spicer.

Those two, despite the clause in Jack’s Will, still tried to play the “grieving parents” line and tried to ask for the whereabouts of their son’s body so they could give him a proper burial. Specifically, they wanted to get hold of him within an 8 hour window of time, because within that time frame, it is still possible to stimulate a dead male’s prostate via electric prod and force an orgasm.

All they’d need to do is find a willing carrier and then have that woman come forward and say, “I’m so sorry to intrude on your grief, but Jack was with me before he died, and…” That way, they could claim they didn’t _force_ the issue of Jack providing grandchildren, but instead it happened naturally.

I figure in a day or so, a convenient “tape recording” of their conversation of their plan will make its way to the media to turn scrutiny _their_ way.

As it is, Jack has been sadly vaporized on impact out in the desert while testing a new flying machine.

Tragic, really.

Jack confronted me in the throne room about, screaming hatefully and threatening to castrate me, of all things. Once I pointed out to him that his escape routes were now _gone_ , that he had no choice but to stay, he very nearly attacked me physically. Fortunately, common sense reared its metaphorical head just in time.

Giving me a series of gestures that could have started a fight in any bar on this planet, Jack then left me in the throne room. He was muttering derogatory things about my blood relatives, my state of mind, and myself the entire way.

Ah, the dulcet crooning of my beloved; what a lucky man I am.


	305. Thursday, November 12, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 1

  
In all my scheming, I did not reckon on one thing:

Francis Stone.

Big Brother did _not_ take the news of Little Brother’s apparent death at all well. He came storming to my home today, demanding that I let him see and talk with Jack. He did not _believe_ that Jack was gone. Finally, I decided to stop toying with him and took him to Jack’s room.

The brothers hugged one another, desperately glad to see each other. The sight of them reminded me of another pair of brothers who once loved each other that much, even if they each found the other annoying.

Then, Stone tried to do something stupid – he tried to pick a fight with me; an actual battle. All it took was Jack explaining that I had “cheated” on him, hurt him, kidnapped him, and now had faked his death, and Stone was ready to do battle against me.

The only thing that saved him was Jack. I would have easily and willingly killed Stone, but Jack defused his brother’s ire enough to keep the thug hothead from committing suicide via Heylin Lord. I would not have enjoyed killing Stone, as it would have set back any chance to win Jack over, but fortunately I was spared that inconvenience.

Stone requested a private audience. I agreed and we adjourned to a private room, where he proceeded to threaten me up one wall and down the other. We both knew that if he actually tried anything, I would paint the walls with his bloods and make curtains from his innards, but he never made an actual move to put threat into actuality. He was ranting about what a “douchebag” I am when I let him in on my plan: to win Jack back to me.

Stone: You’re fuckin’ kiddin’ me.

Me: I am not.

Stone: You want him _back?_ You have the _gall_ to hurt him the way you did and you want him _back?_

Me: _Hurt_ him?

Stone: Don’t _tell_ me you don’t see it, asshole.

Me: Do you want to leave this room alive?

Stone: Bring it, bitch! *makes fire burn around his hands*

Me: I will directly after you answer my question!

Stone: He's not just being bitchy, Young! He's not overreacting or doing this just to piss you off! He's in genuine _pain_ 'cause you couldn't keep it in your pants around that slutty monk!

Me: I am a Heylin Lord! I may fuck whoever I want!

Stone: Maybe you could, until you hooked up with my little bro. He was willing to put up with a lot of shit, but not that; not fuckin’ the guy whose guts he hates more than anything.

With that, he turned and kicked the door of the private parlor open. As he was leaving, he snarled at me: “Congratulations, dragon-nuts, you broke my little brother’s heart. I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

I watched him leave my home, and then became aware of Jack’s presence nearby. I locked gazes with him, knowing he’d heard his brother’s parting shot. He said nothing about it, however, and instead left to go back to his room.

That leaves me as I am: alone, frustrated, hurting, and wondering if I have actually screwed things up so badly that even the Mighty Chase Young cannot fix them.


	306. Friday, November 13, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 0 (must ration)

  
Ah, yes, today is Friday the 13th. It brings to mind the fact that I do possess the Golden Horse Shoe. Conceivably, I could generate good luck solely for myself by keeping it on my person at all times in the “up” position, but the way such laws work is that the device will be taken from me when I need it most, by “lucky” coincidences, and as soon as it is gone, my luck reverts to normal.

So, in essence, I could wear it and use its power to make Jack come back to me. The instant I lose that connection to the GHS, I lose the connection to Jack.

Therefore, it is better to work under my own power to get him back.

Speaking of working, I spent the day holed up in my library, perfecting the immortality spell I have crafted for him. I had to borrow bits and pieces from various spells around the world. Largely, the spell will work due to willpower and intent.

Largely, it will also fail due to willpower and intent – specifically, Spicer must _want_ what the spell offers; genuinely want it, with all of his heart and soul.

At this point in time, not only would the spell _not_ work, but he might have enough strength of mind to make it strip my own power from me and leave me a withered husk.

So, I shall craft this for him and, when he finally is ready to accept it, I shall present it to him. I might even present it in lieu of a ring or other jewelry as an engagement offering, for I am willing to forswear all others if it means him coming back to me.

I will not be entirely _happy_ about it, having never been monogamous before, but I will learn if that is what it takes to keep Jack by my side.

I only pray this gets resolved soon. In my weakened state, I would be easy pickings against the likes of Bean or Wuya.


	307. Saturday, November 14, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 10 (fuck rationing, I have _need_ _s_ )

  
I never thought, at the end of a day, I would be sitting carefully in my bed with an ice pack pressed tenderly against my crotch to ease the pain and swelling.

At least, not from getting kneed in the crotch.

I found Spicer in the kitchen today. I tried to _talk_ to him, but he interrupted me at every turn. It seemed almost as if he was afraid to let me talk. If that’s the case, then I still have a chance. If he is afraid to listen to me, then he is afraid he will be swayed by my words, which means he will forgive me and take me back. True, I have claimed him, but I did that when I took him back as my bed partner after the debacle with the sex drugs. I have claimed him; he _is_ mine.

That means precisely fuck all, however, if I cannot get him to claim _me_.

I made a serious attempt at it today, though. I talked, or tried to. He interrupted me and threw down avoidance techniques as if his life depended on it.

I admit: I was highly annoyed at the constant interruptions. I lost my patience and backed him against a wall. When he _still_ used his avoidance tactics, I grabbed him.

The next thing I knew, I was finally beginning to uncurl from a fetal position on the floor.

I had completely and utterly forgotten that Omi and I had trained Jack to defend himself against bigger and/or stronger opponents. Omi taught him honorable tactics, while I taught him every dirty trick in the book.

And, somehow, I forgot that.

Hence, Jack rammed his knee into my genitals and I came back to awareness to find myself curled on the floor beside a puddle of my own puke.

It has been a very, very long time since I have been hurt that badly.

Part of me wants to beat him into a coma for daring to do that to me. The rest of me is alternately proud of him for making adequate use of his training and chagrined that he felt frightened/angry/defensive enough to make use of it.

I shall have to come up with seduction plans that do not require the use of touch as Jack has made it _beyond_ clear that he would not welcome it right now.


	308. Sunday, November 15, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 0 (rationing again, but hopefully not for much longer...)

  
I will be going on a date with Jack tomorrow!

He was requested at dinner this evening, and I chose to dine with him. He has to start getting used to me again, and besides which, this is _my_ home. If I want to eat at my own dining table, I will. Given how tense and nervous he seemed, I think he was afraid I was going to poison him or do something else atrocious for the assault on my balls with his knee. He needn’t fear retribution; I’d earned the strike, though I hate to admit it.

At any rate, while at the table together, he neither looked at me nor spoke to me as he ate. I looked at him, of course, but he kept his eyes averted and concentrated on his meal. I’d cooked him a sumptuous dinner; tender steak with gorgonzola butter, polenta flavored with cheese and sausage, mushroom sauce, skillfully hidden greens (he still hates vegetables), and for dessert I had cherries steeped in red wine and sugar served with lemon cake.

Jack ate it as if it were fast food junk; to be gotten through and digested and left behind as if it were nothing of importance.

Already irked by this, I announced my intention to take him out on a date tomorrow. Naturally, he balked and so I was forced to call upon one of the favors he owes me for capturing Shen-Gong-Wu for him to study. _Jack_ is most certainly kicking himself for agreeing to that blank check agreement, but _I_ am grateful for it, as otherwise, I’d have no leverage in this operation.

So, tomorrow night, we will go on a date. I plan to take him to _Sounds of Brazil_ , where we went on our first date together after the disastrous mess with the sex drugs. Given how successfully the night ended for us both _then_ , I’m hoping it will go as well now.


	309. Monday, November 16, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 3

  
Well, that was an unmitigated disaster.

I don’t know _what_ I was thinking. I took him to a restaurant featuring the country of the young man who was his hated enemy that I’d fucked. Too, now that I pause to think about it, the last time we went there… I’d _already_ won him back. That time, I had dismissed him and then come back to him, and we’d already fixed things between us.

This time, _he_ dismissed _me_ – as if I will adhere to any such usurpation of status – and I chose to bring him to a place redolent with the culture of the very man that caused our spectacular break-up. Not only that, but I dashed any hopes he might have had of escape/rescue by putting the notice-us-not spell on the two of us. Nobody paid any serious attention to us; never noticed that a supposedly dead man and his wicked companion were seated among them.

Jack was entirely uncomfortable the whole time we were there. At one point, he excused himself to the bathroom. He was gone long enough for me to begin to wonder if he hadn’t snuck out somehow, but when he returned, I could smell the saline scent of tears on him. The whites of his eyes were reddened, too.

Still, I’m nothing if not an optimist. I doggedly kept trying to get him to dance with me, to be _with_ me, but he was having none of it. Finally, I had no choice but to admit defeat, especially after this conversation took place:

Me: Why is this so _difficult?_

Jack: Because I don’t want you.

Me: What?

Jack: You usually have an easier time of seducing people because they’re actively trying to get into your pants and any attention you give them is enough to make it work. I’m not like that, anymore. I’m _not_ trying to get into your pants, I _don’t_ want you in mine again, and for whatever reason, you’re not getting that.

Me: …Spicer, I—

Jack: No. Just…don’t. Take me home.

Chase: …Very well.

And so I did.

I am frustrated and full of anger at this point. I have never been so blatantly refused in all my life after I have gone to so much effort for someone… never been refused and let the person get away with it, that is.

Truthfully speaking, I have never met opposition to my charms like this before. Normally, I am wanted; lusted after, _craved_ with maddening passion. The way Jack… _used_ to feel for me.

Apparently he does not any longer. No amount of memories of enjoying time together with or without sex will sway him, or so he claims.

I’m not ready to give up yet, however. There are more favors owed between us. I must plot and plan carefully how best to use them so that I can win him back to me.

The thought that I might fail is too nauseating and nerve-wracking to even consider.


	310. Tuesday, November 17, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 22 (they may be my last)

  
I am about to go to war.

I was dining with Jack tonight when Bean arrived. I do not have the faintest clue how he keeps getting in here. I have warded and re-warded and triple-threat-spelled my palace a thousand times over, and _still_ the pestilent legume gets in!

Tonight, he landed on the table and began digging at Jack with words. I would have fought him then and there, but the information Bean pulled from Jack was… illuminating.

The things Bean had said to Jack the _last_ time he’d visited, apparently, were that Jack was on borrowed time with me; that I could not love him and it was only a matter of time before I discarded Jack for a new sex-toy.

 _THAT_ was what Jack had refused to talk about. He’d kept the information to himself, and when I’d pressed him about it he’d only smile at me and say he thought Bean was wrong.

Tonight, with hatred and pain in his red eyes, Jack said to Bean that he was _right_ ; had been right all along and there was no need to rub it in his face.

Bean left, then, with the invitation to join him.

Sickened, my body so tense with rage that I feared my bones would break, I got up and left the dinner table.

I have made my battle plans and will leave shortly.

Jack… if I don’t make it back alive, and you’re reading this… Bean was _wrong_. _You_ were right, the first time.

I love you. I’m sorry that I cannot promise to visit you from time to time, or be waiting when it is finally your turn to shuffle off your mortal coil, because I will have vanished to oblivion. But you may take with you to wherever you go the knowledge that you were the only one I have ever loved enough to want to keep with me for eternity. You may have the knowledge that a creature of malevolence and evil such as I was, at the end, as wicked as ever – but very much in love, too.

It is time to go.


	311. Friday, November 20, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 0

  
I am finally feeling well enough to write my thoughts down.

I don’t remember much of the battle at the moment. I’m certain in time, I will; meditation and my own determination to know will help me. For the moment, however, it is a blur of pain and hatred, of agony and malice, of misery and the cruel, crushing need to destroy.

I arrived at Bean’s chosen hideout without difficulty. He was making no attempt to hide from me. I think he is as tired of our long-standing rivalry as I am. I arrived and, as I strode toward him, Wuya attempted to intervene. I recall swatting her away and saying something along the lines of, “Begone, witch! I have no time for the likes of you.”

Then, Bean and I rushed each other head-on, and that’s the last I clearly remember.

As for how I got home, it seems my brother has been keeping an eye on me whether I wanted him to or not. Despite the harsh words I hurled at him the last time he came to visit, the words that drove him away, he has kept tabs on me because I am his little brother and so he loves me.

Dashi the Monk; Dashi the Grand Master Dragon.

Grand Master Pain in the _Ass_ , is more like it.

Yes, Dashi, I know you’re reading this, you bald-headed irritant.

Anyway, Dashi alerted Guan to the battle between myself and Bean. With their arrival, Bean fled, because he was not willing to take on the three of us – especially when one is a bodhisattva, the other nearly so, and the third a man imbued with as much evil and power as he is.

I was hauled home: unconscious, broken, and bleeding. It was some time before I woke up, and when I did, it was to the sight of Dashi and Guan crowding around me, talking about my lover and me being in “deep, deep smit.”

I tried to argue about it, but it hurt too much to do so. I actually begged Guan to not tell Jack anything about my injuries, but he simply went to my bedroom door and opened it. There was Spicer, paler than usual, staring at me in terror. I got angry, which made me hurt _more_ , but it seems Diol was responsible for apprising Jack of the situation, not Guan.

Jack himself came streaking in to chew me out for my supposed death-wish. While he was doing that, Dashi – golden and mostly transparent – had a huge grin on his smarmy face. He then accused us of being like an old married couple.

Jack got pissy about it. He took some of my hair, declared we’re not anything like that anymore, and left to go make me some Heal-Me Juice. It seems that Jack convinced my warriors to pool their magical power together to transport his lab back to the palace… just to make me the regenerative healing liquid. To me, that speaks of love. No matter what Jack _says_ , it is his actions that speak loudest.

Dashi agreed with me, but then he enquired as to what I’d done to cause a rift in the first place. Guan told him, and now Dashi is rubbing it in my face that I fucked up. It was while he was doing this that Diol came back in, having fled my earlier wrath, and announced: “Your fair and fainting beloved is currently puking into a toilet and crying because he thinks you’re going to die.”

That cheered me up immensely; it’s proof that he still cares for me, whether he wants to or not, and so I still have a shot at this.

Of course, Dashi has been insufferable. He has refused to leave, declaring it his duty to help his little brother fix his love life, or, as he calls it, “The Saga of the Dragon and the Geek: True Love in Looney Land”.

The Heal-Me Juice was brought to me early this morning. Jack was snarling at Dashi about how he is _not_ still in love with me and then snarled at _me_ to “take the fucking juice, Chase!” and then left.

Since my high-strung moon-skinned love is in no mood to come to me, I have spent the day going to him. I have tried my level best to convince him that he does still love me and we can be together again, if only his own ego and stubbornness will get out of the way.

Ah, well. Now that I am in no danger of dying, I have time to work at it some more.


	312. Saturday, November 21, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 0 (must ration)

  
Spicer has, apparently, cottoned on to my strategy of stalking and bedeviling him with seductive wiles until he gives in.

His countermeasure: Incite my jealous fury.

He told me today of how easily he could have gone with someone else; that mortal I caught him in bed with weeks ago. Apparently, several months back, that same mortal had come on to _MY CONSORT_ and, though Jack was tempted, he came back to me.

After he left me – not that I gave my permission to do so – that same mortal greedily accepted Jack’s offer of “hooking up.”

I should have ‘hooked’ _him_ : namely, using an exquisite pair of antique, still in superb condition Shuanggou. The hook swords were made by a Master Swordsman during the Song dynasty. He very nearly defeated _me_ with them. Happily, I won the day and claimed his weapons as my trophy. It was only later that I realized I had wanted the man who had owned them as much as his swords – hence my practice of acquiring defeated warriors and turning them into immortal jungle cats.

He was one of the spirits that showed up on Halloween, actually. He never comes to taunt me, though. He simply stares at me, silently, as if he’s pining for something. It’s rather creepy, come to think of it, so perhaps I did better to fling him to the somewhat tender mercies of death.

A mercy I wish I had the strength to inflict on either Spicer or myself, given how angry and despondent he made me today.

However, if he wants to play at torture games, then fine. Since Jack considers my presence so very onerous, I’m going to take him on another date.

Try to top _that_ , you hateful little shit.


	313. Sunday, November 22, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 2

  
So, yes, there will be a date tomorrow.

I had to use a favor to get it, and that leaves me ten, but Spicer will be spending romantic time with me whether he likes it or not.

I ought to go procure more Shen-Gong-Wu for him to study. After all, the deal did not specify a limit, nor for the allowance of Jack to call off the deal. It ends when I choose for it to end; when I no longer feel like acquiring more Shen-Gong-Wu for him. That being the case, there are roughly twenty to thirty potential favors in the Xiaolin Temple’s ‘Wu vault.

And yet… I can’t bring myself to do it. I want to win him back within a specific amount of time, and by that I mean the number of original favors accrued. I don’t want to have to use them to do it, but even I am aware that if I don’t, my chances of winning him back are nil.

I’m angry, though, and I cannot plan for a romantic date with this emotional storm clouding my thoughts. It’s all Dashi’s fault, anyway.

He popped up today to talk with me about Jack; perhaps to nag some “sense” into me about the entire situation… I don’t know. Why he thought I needed it, when I’m well aware of what’s at stake, I also do not know. Maybe it’s only that he’s always been a meddling old windbag and a soft-and-squishy matchmaker. Interfering, busybody old yenta!

GRAH. _Why_ I couldn’t be an only child, the gods alone know.

Dashi’s interference today went something like this:

Dashi: Nice kid you've got.

Me: He's not a child.

Dashi: Oh? Alright, is nice 'pretty young man' better?

Me: *growls*

Dashi: Well... No, I guess I shouldn't be complimenting you: he's not yours anymore.

Me: *SNARL*

Dashi: Did I hit a nerve? Is Big, Bad Chase Young upset 'cause he's singlehandedly caused a gigantic schism between himself and the only person in the world he might love back?

Me: Fuck off back to the grave you came from; I hate you.

Dashi: *tucks ghostly arms behind ghostly oddly elongated head* Dude, you hate _everybody_.

Me: ......Not _everybody_.

Dashi: *huge, shit-eating grin*

Me: Shut _up_ , gods damn you!

Dashi: *projecting innocence for all he's worth* Didn't say a word!

Me: You were _thinking_ something irritating, I'm _certain_ of it.

Dashi: Of course I was; I'm a Grand Master Dragon while _you_ are a Heylin _pussy_ that tanked his only shot at Twu Wuv.

Me: *GROWL, punches a good-sized hole straight through the wall*

Dashi: Yeah, I can see what _Jack_ sees in you. *sarcasm*

Me: I cannot even _begin_ to describe the amount of _hate_ I am feeling at you this moment. Be grateful you aren't still alive, or I'd be throttling you right now.

Dashi: Blah, blah, blah. All I hear is the sound of your balls screaming for help as they slowly shrivel into raisins because your young man – ‘scuse me, EX-your young man – rightly refuses to let you anywhere near him. Don't worry, though; they'll go perfectly with that little black lump you call a _heart_.

Me: *meditative breathing, regains some composure* How Heylin of you, Dashi: kicking a man while he's down.

Dashi: Please; who do you think you learned it from? Or don't you remember the Noogie Wars when we were kids? Enlightenment is found along many paths; scalp burns just so happens to be one of those paths.

Me: Apparently, you were on the receiving end of one too many of those noogies. *conspicuously runs a hand through my long, luxurious hair, emphasizing its presence*

Dashi: Hmph! *pokes a ghostly finger at me* We can trade insults until the dragons come home, but the plain and simple truth of it is: You want Jack Spicer back. You lost him due to your own arrogance and foolishness. What needs to change if you want him back?

Me: *snaps* Don't you think that if I knew what to do, I'd have _done_ it already?!

Dashi: Well, crap. You really _did_ have your brain in your balls, didn't you? And since they've turned into the Oriental Raisins.... *claps his hands together, actually making a sharp sound* Wake _up_ , _mei-mei!_ You have to stuff your arrogance where the sun doesn't shine! You gotta humble yourself to him and show him that he means _everything_ to you!

Me: Who the _fuck_ are _you_ calling "little sister"?!

Dashi: You, _zhu tou!_

Me: I'll "pig head" _you_ , you pissy little zombie!

Dashi: Wrong dead thing! Fine! You don't want him back? I'll leave you to figure it out on your own. _That_ way, we're certain you'll _never_ win him over.

And, thus, my horrible mood.

Life was so much simpler when I really _did_ hate everyone.

Nothing for it now. I _must_ figure out what to do for tomorrow night’s date.


	314. Monday, November 23, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 5

  
Every once in a while, I consider myself a supreme genius.

Today is one of those times!

For our date, I took Jack on a hot air balloon ride, complete with finger foods and champagne. We went at dusk, and so he could see the world spread out below him; look at the minuscule, unworthy mortals beneath him, where they rightfully belonged. The wind was in his hair, the cool air caressing his face just as I longed to do.

We talked, but not much. Jack was snippy and spiteful, unless he was busy with the view from our basket. At one point, he even allowed me to hold his hand, though I admit I took hold of it while he was engrossed in sight-seeing. The pleasure in his red eyes as he looked out on the world was wonderful to see, even if I wished he was looking at _me_ like that.

I asked him what he thought of the experience; what he thought of being so far above the dwellers of the world that they looked like the tiny ants they are.

He said: “I’d have liked it a lot better if it was just _me_ here.”

I won’t lie; the remark hurt. But, I could see a quick grimace on his face before he hid it away from me by turning his head.

I saw _guilt_.

So, I shall count tonight as a “win” and find what peace I can in that.


	315. Tuesday, November 24, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 0 (must ration)

  
By all rights, I should kill Spicer for this humiliation.

He has made me… show emotion. _Sad_ emotion, let us say, that causes eyes to become wet.

Fortunately, that is the most of the reaction he caused. I will not show such weakness as to let that moisture slip free. But the fact that he managed it _at all_ ….

We were having dinner together again. I engaged him in conversation and he seemed to pounce on the opportunity to speak with me. He reminded me that he is being kept at the palace very much against his will and he doesn’t want to be around me.

Recalling the success of last night’s date, I replied with, “That isn’t what you were saying on our date.”

Spicer shot back with a cold and callus: “Yeah, well, you killed my libido.” He proceeded to clarify what he meant by explaining what he’d seen when I had dominated Pedrosa.

Well _done_ , Spicer. You are far more Heylin than I clearly gave you credit for.

I am beginning to question why I am working so hard at winning him back. Supposedly, I love him, but right now I hate him so much I am fighting off the urge to paint the walls with his blood.


	316. Wednesday, November 25, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 0 (must ration)

  
Jack and I went on another date tonight. I figured that if he hates spending time with me so much, and as angry as I am at him for his bitchy little verbal snipes, then the best thing I could do to punish him other than mangle his body is to make him date me.

That and I actually want to date him. I want him to enjoy spending time with me.

Dashi came to see me last night after I left Spicer at the dinner table. He was solemn instead of playful, at least for a little bit. He took one look at my face and he went quiet in a way he hardly ever does.

The last time I saw that particular look, it was only seconds before I’d murdered him.

This time, it was because Spicer had hurt me enough to make me…

Anyway.

Our conversation, up until he vanished, went something like this:

Me: *snarling, pacing for a few moments* What _is_ he that he can do this to me? No one else has ever reduced me to this. Why _him?_

Dashi: *sympathetic gaze* I don't know, baby brother. Maybe it's because he loves you "just because." Nobody else, other than me, ever has – not even Guan. Anybody else loved you so long as you could do something they wanted or needed, but the instant you failed to do that something, they stopped. I never stopped loving you, even after you turned to evil. You _killed_ me, and I still love you. Jack... Well, you've broken his heart, but he wouldn't be half so desperate to keep you away from him if he didn't still love you; if he wasn't terrified of having his heart broken again.

Me: *sigh* Dashi... leave me. I have much to think about.

Dashi: Alright, little bro. Just... one more thing.

Me: What?

Dashi: *latches onto me and noogies my head; flits away an instant later, laughing* Good luck, baby brother! You're gonna need it!

Me: *hurls vicious curses and hateful words after him*

Dashi: *blows a kiss and is gone*

Grah. I hate family reunions.

However, he did give me something to think about – specifically, Jack’s behavior and how quick he was to take advantage of us speaking to each other just to get a shot in.

Since I was still feeling petty about the hurt inflicted on me, though, I forced him to agree to a date, which we had this evening.

I arranged for a private screening of the disaster film _2012_. I’m not much for modern cinema, but I greatly enjoy end-of-the-world films. Small wonder, yes? However, I detest sitting in a crowded movie theater and so I arranged for private viewing. The only ones in the theater were myself and Spicer, complete with snacks.

Jack is a talker during movies. It’s as if he is dictating a report to himself to remember later. I don’t mind, as I am able to concentrate through it if I need to hear the dialogue. Since I really do not care for cheesy modern dialogue, all I needed was to be able to see the film.

It really is a fairly good story. Jack was wide-eyed and wide-smiled with delight when California broke apart and slid into the ocean. He sat in his seat, trembling with joy, and I found myself taken with the urge to make it _actually_ happen if the fictional event could cause him to behave so.

Instead, we sat and talked together; picked apart the plot and the plotholes, the choices for character casting, what parts of the story worked and what parts were simply stupid.

We had a great time and Jack was decent to me for a change. Of course, when the film was over and we’d gone home, he seemed to remember that he was angry at me. He cooled off and went to his room without another word, but I’m going to count this as another win.

I only hope he chooses to not make me pay for him having a good time by metaphorically slapping me again. I might not be able to control myself.


	317. Thursday, November 26, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 0 (must ration)

  
Gods damn if he didn’t metaphorically slap me again.

Why in the name of the Courts of Hell am I putting up with this?

He accused me of fucking Katnappé in his lab (where I found him and talked to him, tried to touch him casually). He guessed at the worktable, the floor, up against the cabinet. The first two, he was wrong, but he was spot on with the third. I _did_ have her up against the cabinet. The mere memory of it has me hard and randy.

Then, he went on to accuse me of having fucked Pedrosa there, too.

Considering I never touched the rotten twerp after Spicer and I got together, except for that one foolish act weeks ago, I resent that accusation.

I shouted at him, but he sneered at me and then left.

I vanished to somewhere in China’s north-eastern area and vented my frustrations. Apparently, I caused a mine explosion. Only a few people perished which, had I known they were in the area, they would not have. I would have gladly murdered them all.

And now, damn it, I can’t stop thinking about sex. I want to fuck someone; I want to fuck _Jack_.

That is not an option, yet.

Therefore, I shall have to make do with our “home video collection” and my own right hand.


	318. Friday, November 27, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 0 (must ration)

  
I’ve spent the day… relieving my frustrations.

I used memories, both in my mind and visually recorded, of the pleasure that can be had with Jack. I tried, out of spite, to remember the sex I’d had with Katnappé, but my ardor cooled noticeably until I went back to memories of Jack.

I suppose it’s just as well that Katnappé is no longer capable of wanting or reacting to sex. I’d have gone to make use of her and Jack would most certainly have found out, and that would have been the end of that.

By the gods, I miss the sensation of sinking into a warm, tight, eager body. If only Jack were ready to forgive me. I’m aching with the fantasies churning in my mind; of how I’d go to my knees before him, sucking him; of how I’d drag him to the floor and push my way between his sleek white thighs, how I’d push my way inside him and fuck him until we both came in a rush of ecstasy!

….Fuck it all, anyway. Looks like I need to relieve myself again.

I’d better switch hands; my right hand and wrist is beginning to hurt.


	319. Saturday, November 28, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 12 ( _needed_ )

  
I decided to try something else to cool myself down.

I was looking through the world to see what might be of interest to Jack when I realized a phenomenon was brewing up north – way, way, _way_ up north!

I had only enough time to get him to where he needed to be. I went to his room, but he was asleep. I didn’t let him _remain_ that way for very long. I dressed him in extreme cold weather gear, scooped him up, and teleported us to the North Pole. _Then_ I woke him up.

Jack was cranky and crabby, and very much aware that a date was about to happen, and forced me to use another favor. I reluctantly agreed, but it was worth it several minutes later when I saw the delight on his face as the sky above us teased into strands of rippling light.

We’d gone to the precise location we needed to be and sat in the snow. I was in my usual attire because extreme temperatures do not bother me. Jack, on the other hand, was snuggled up tight against me because, despite the Arctic gear he was wearing, he was _still_ freezing. A happy coincidence – for me, at least!

Jack didn’t actually notice at first. He was griping about his balls freezing into _snow_ balls, so I had to nudge him to get his attention. Once I had it, though, and he looked up… ah, bliss.

Jack loves color for _looking_ at. There is so little of it that looks good _on_ him. Out of the thousands of color shades in the world, perhaps six suit him. Primary yellow, dark blue, black, gray, red, and purple… all of these suit him well, but there is more leeway with red. So many different shades of it are applicable to him, but it is still the same color grouping.

But, I digress.

Jack was entranced with the color spectrum dancing above us. I enjoyed the pretty lights myself, but I was far more enamored of watching their reflection in his eyes and seeing the contentment on his face.

I put my arm around him and he looked at me. I haven’t seen that look of soft acceptance in weeks.

We leaned closer…

And, naturally, my idiot brother had to ruin the moment.

Just as it looked as though I were about to claim a kiss from my beloved, Dashi popped up to order me to do so.

Jack immediately wrenched away from me, said _NO_ , and demanded to be taken home.

I did so, absolutely infuriated, and as soon as Jack was safely ensconced in his room, I went straight to my library to look up permanent exorcism spells.

Dashi, seeing what I was up to, wisely chose to vacate the premises under his own power.

 _GRAH_. That… that oblong-headed _dolt!_ That immature, unfunny cockblocker!

If he wasn’t already dead, I’d kill him – again!

If he does that to me again, I’ll _invent_ a spell that will allow me to kill a ghost!


	320. Sunday, November 29, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 0 (back to rationing)

  
Didn’t see Jack much today; only long enough to tell him we’re going on another date – for which he made me use a favor – and that it’s a dinner date, so wear a good-looking suit.

Beyond that, nothing much. I haven’t even seen Dashi today, which is lucky for him.

I’ve been edgy and bored, though. I sparred, I meditated… nothing has helped much.

It’s my lifelong habit of impatience at work, I know. I _can_ control it, obviously, but right now, I’m impatient for: 1) Jack to return to me, and 2) Sex. Sex, sex, _sex_.

I want nothing more than to bend _him_ over his worktable and fuck him until we’re both unconscious.

If this lasts too much longer, I might very well go insane.


	321. Monday, November 30, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 0 (must ration)

  
For the record, I do not care for the Japanese people as an entire group; not since the atrocities committed during the Rape of Nanking.

However, I will admit that occasionally, the Japanese do things correctly in the form of food and entertainment.

I took Jack to a very expensive, exclusive, upscale _daichan kaiten_ sushi bar. It was located in the Tokyo Sky Tree; a recent development in Tokyo’s landscape. The sushi restaurant is made of twisting, looping whorls of conveyor belt arms that are shaped to resemble octopus arms. The materials used in the conveyor belt alone are extravagant. For instance, instead of simple steel plates to hold the artisan food plates, the belt plates are ceramic tile decorated with cherry blossoms or other scenes of Japanese beauty. The protective sides that rise up to guide the ceramic tiles along their track are made of thinly sculpted oyster shell. As if that weren’t enough, the mechanism is whisper-quiet and the display of a beautifully carved marble octopus issuing forth fish to the diners, the food swooping neatly and plentifully around the tables, is aesthetic as well.

Jack took one look at it and said he recognized the technology in use to make everything run so quietly and so smoothly. Spicer Tech had obviously been employed to help design the system. He is correct, of course: Spicer Tech was employed to build the entire tower, hence why it was finished years ahead of schedule. The Tokyo Sky Tree was not slated to be finished until 2011 and opened in 2012, according to the current world calendar. Instead, it is now late 2009, and the newly minted Tokyo Sky Tree is open for business.

We were one of a few people eating there. As I said, because of its newness and the price of hiring Spicer Tech to build the tower, only people of a certain wealth bracket can afford it at the moment. Fortunately, either myself or Spicer are in that bracket – not that the people running the place knew it was us. All they required as sufficient funds to allow us inside.

We were seated in a position to allow an excellent view of Mount Fuji in the distance. We were served sake and Jack began perusing the food passing by. So many rich choices of luxuriously prepared sushi went by. Individual-sized servings of a “High Roller” sushi roll – lobster, shaved white truffle, saffron and butter glaze, and caviar – went past. It was rather amusing to see a $1,000 dinner item slide past as if it were common fare, though the whole point of this restaurant is that it isn’t so common.

Jack was sipping his sake and I… instead of choosing my food, I was thinking merely of how gorgeous he is, how desirable. I was looking at him and thinking of how very, _very_ much I wanted to strip him out of his fine Armani suit, lay him across the table, and suck him while using the contents of the nearest oil carafe to finger him open.

To my surprise, Jack choked on his sake as if he’d been startled. I was concerned and asked if he was alright; he replied that he was fine, but the sake was simply too strong.

In retrospect, I should have seen the obvious lie. Jack can drink the _Cyclops_ under a table if he wants to. He could probably even put Vlad out of commission, and the Russians are notorious for their capacity to drink.

However, at the time, I saw nothing wrong and even asked him if I should order something more delicate for him. Even as I said it, I was thinking that if he didn’t want the sake, I’d keep it – and oh, what I would do with it. I’d decorate his naked skin with trails of the stuff and gleefully, slowly lick it off of him.

Jack refused the offer, so I felt prompted to ask him if he wanted _anything_ at all. At that moment, my fantasy shifted to him as he was; fully dressed and seated, but in my fantasy, he growled, “Yes. _You_.” and climbed over the table to get to me. I daydreamed of him straddling my lap, his hands buried in my hair as he kissed me aggressively while grinding himself on my lap, stroking our erections together through the fabric of our clothing.

Jack hesitated to answer me, looking disconcerted about something. His cheeks were beginning to pink up a little, as well. I should have clued in to what was happening much sooner, but alas, my mental faculties were dulled by the fog of lust in my system.

I asked him again if he wanted anything; I told him that all he had to do was say the word, and whatever he wanted would be done. I should _not_ have made that offer – it was a blank check offer and he could have used it to effectively stop me from attempting to win him back.

And yet, in my mind, all I could see was him seated in a throne of his own, looking at me with lust-dark eyes while he ordered me to service him sexually. Whatever he told me to do, I would do. In my fantasy, I humbled myself to please him.

At that moment, Jack seemed to stiffen in his seat and his cheeks blushed pink even further as he averted his gaze. That was when I became highly suspicious. A theory formed in my subconscious and my mind was quick to test it.

I thought vividly of Jack ordering me – still in that particular fantasy – to get _in_ him because he could not wait any longer. In my mind, I slicked him open; twisted and stretched with my fingers, and then Fantasy-Jack wrapped his arms around me, his nails digging into my back and his legs spread wide in welcome as I thrust into him, moving with hard, slow strokes to give us both maximum pleasure.

Theory confirmed! His cheeks bright pink, Jack hurriedly excused himself from the table and went to the restroom. As he passed me, I saw the fabric of his trousers tented with a sizeable erection.

The rotten little fink! Somehow, he’d created a device that worked like the Mind Reader Conch – it was allowing him to pick up on my thoughts! I don’t know how he created it, as I have not yet captured the Mind Reader Conch for him to study, but he did it somehow. Clearly, he’d made it to afford himself an advantage in this Battle of Seduction, hoping to counter any plans I made.

Instead, he was defeated by our combined lust for each other.

It was then that I got a rather wicked idea. He wouldn’t let me touch him physically, but he’d said _nothing_ about mentally – and, as he’d resorted to cheating, there was nothing to stop me from cheating right back.

I got up casually and went to the restroom. I stepped in and heard the telltale glide of skin on skin coming from the only closed-door stall in the room. The noise stopped instantly, of course, but that didn’t stop _me_.

I pulled up a memory I particularly cherished. It was during our last “home movie making” marathon, actually. At one point, Jack had been riding me. He’d been moving with quick, desperate snaps of his hips while beneath him, I had been fucking up into him hard and fast. He’d been straining to come, so very desperate for orgasm with me inside him. I’d gripped bruises and welts into his hips, cut red scratches into his thighs with my nails. I’d been telling him of what I was going to do to him _next_ ; lewd suggestions that featured me licking him clean of my leavings, sucking him, _marking_ him, making him _submit_ to me!

As he had done then, Jack came tonight with me in his thoughts – quite literally! In his thoughts, if not my name on his lips. I heard the muffled grunt as he climaxed, the quiet spatter of his come striking the wooden door of the stall he was hiding in. He was panting, struggling to stay quiet as I gloried in the sound and smell of him in orgasm. Then, just to rub it in further, I imagined myself on my knees in that stall with him, sucking him clean and licking up any little droplets that might have touched his inner thighs. I gave him the mental knowledge that I would clean him with slow, tender, affectionate touch… and then, finish with wrapping my arms around him and laying my head submissively in his lap.

 _Me_ … submitting, willingly, to another.

If _that_ doesn’t give him a fucking clue as to how much I care for him, then nothing will.

Still, having made my somewhat subtle point that I was on to him by having sex with him using my mind, I retreated to allow him privacy to recuperate. In hindsight, I shouldn’t have let him know I knew. I could have fucked him using my mind all night long!

Naturally, when he returned to the table, I thought incredibly pornographic things at him for several minutes, but he failed to react which meant he’d removed the mind-reader device. I, of course, cursed my own impatience for provoking him into removing the thing!

But, I still count tonight as a massive victory. I did not touch him physically, but I _did_ make love to him. I fucked him, even if it was only mind-to-mind, and I made him come. I gave him a vivid reminder of how perfect we are together in bed. While I am attempting to make him see that what we are is _not_ merely a sexual partnering, it doesn’t hurt that we’re so very _good_ at it.

I wonder… had I not screwed up my chances, had he not been provoked into removing the mind-reader device, would I have successfully seduced him into allowing me to actually fuck him? The thought of having him in a high-priced restaurant where anyone could walk in is utterly arousing. I can picture him seated on that hideously expensive marble sink, his legs spread to accommodate me; leaning back on his hands to allow me room to nip and kiss him even as my hips work in quick, hard thrusts, fucking my cock in and out of him until we both come.

….Damn it all, now I must know!

 **Edited to Add:**

Apparently not. I went to his room to sneak a peek at his journal while he slept. No further mention was made of what _might_ have happened had the mental intimacy continued. In fact, he seems to have anticipated my need to know! I found a message left for me in which he clearly states, using my name, that this was _not_ an invitation to take advantage of him!

 _DAMN it!_

So. Fucking. _Horny!_


	322. Tuesday, December 1, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 0

  
It is the beginning of December. I am now down to only six favors and it is fucking _cold_ outside.

I’ve always been grateful that my element is Fire. I _detest_ cold weather. Snow is lovely, yes, but cold temperatures do not please me. Hence why I chose a _volcano_ as my domicile. Why waste a forest or magic to provide central heating when redirected lava channels work just as well?

The only benefit cold weather inspires in me is a prompt for snuggling. I can think of nothing cozier than bundling under the covers with my beloved.

Unfortunately for me, he can – at this point – certainly think of things he’d rather be doing.

And so it is that I’ve used yet another favor, giving me only six left to work with, and all I’ve asked him to do is sleep with me tonight. The _look_ on his face…! It was beyond obvious, even before he protested, that he thought I was forcing him to have sex with me.

That is not the case, which I was quick to reassure him of. Certainly, I could have used favors to get sex from him, but it would have been tantamount to rape and we both know it. Since I will _not_ go there, he has nothing to fear from me in that regard.

The favor I’ve asked him for is merely to sleep beside me in bed tonight. I have missed the scent of him on my sheets and pillows, the warmth of him in bed beside me. I _miss_ him.

The fact that he is still physically attracted to me works in my favor. If Jack is the one to initiate sex, I hardly doubt I’ll turn him down. No, in fact, I would happily make love to him however he demanded it of me… within reason.

Although, at this point, I think I’d even let him have sex with my monster form as he’s so desperately wanted if it meant getting some from him.

Grah. I am a cheap, easy slut.

 _Yes, you are!_

DAMN IT, DASHI! How the hell did you manage to write that? You’re a _ghost!_ Go get your own journal, you perverted goat-molesting monk!


	323. Wednesday, December 2, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 3

  
I had to sneak onto Jack’s computer to look up some information early this morning. It was taking too long, and I was offered some strange options from the search engine I was using. I know _I’m_ a sex-obsessed man, but is the entire world gone to the bordello?

At one point, Omi joined me. He’d been looking for me to give him some ear scratches and he wanted to know why I was looking up flower sex. I explained to him the weird dream Spicer had had last night when he’d slept beside me in bed. Though it took him a while to fall asleep, he eventually did so. At some point, he woke me up because he was muttering in French and moving around.

Jack: *mumble, mumble, shift*

Me: *awake!*

Jack: Noooo… no… Je ne suis _pas_ votre petite fleur de lune de l'amour !

At that point, I thought my eyes would fall out of my head, as wide open as my eyelids were. “Little moon flower of love?” What was going _on_ in his mind? But, it did not stop there.

Jack: Ah, mon Dieu, la puanteur!

I was wondering what a malodorous scent had to do with anything, and he quickly followed it up with, “Cessez de m’embrasser!”

He had ordered someone to stop kissing him all while squirming, trying to get away from someone. I had a fairly good idea at that point who he was dreaming of, but his next words confirmed it.

Jack: Poing, poing, poing ! Ce qu'avec poinging ? Les dragons ne devraient pas poing !

I had _no idea_ what he was talking about. What is a “poing?”

At any rate, I explained the dream to Omi, who then told me it sounded very like a cartoon his friends had made him watch a long time ago; something about an amorous skunk that did not take no for an answer.

The implication did not set well with me, but I nevertheless searched for a cartoon amorous skunk and was given a character named “Pepé Le Pew.”

Omi: Ah! Yes! That is him; the love skunk of Pee-Pee Pew!

Even now, I can’t help a stifled snicker at the term “love skunk.” Dashi bursts into giggles every once in a while, so I know he’s taken a liking to it, too.

And so! I read the information on this love skunk character and deduced that Jack had likened me to the skunk and himself to the finicky feline most often the target of the skunk’s _unwanted_ affection.

Amused as I am at Omi’s malapropism, I am not at all pleased by the news bulletin provided by Jack’s subconscious.

After finding the information I needed, I went back to bed for some more sleep. It took me some time to calm down enough to do so, but I’m glad I did.

When I woke up again, Jack was snuggling me like he used to do; spooned up tight against me, one arm and leg thrown over me, holding me close to him. Clearly, it disconcerted him, as he quickly let go and moved away.

As for me, I couldn’t resist teasing him about his dream. I asked how my “little moon flower of love” was feeling – in French, naturally.

Me: Comment allez-vous se sentant, ma petite fleur de lune de l'amour ?

Jack: *gives me a look that says I am a strange, _strange_ man*

Clearly, he had no recollection of the dream. I suppose that’s just as well, or he’d use it as proof that I should stop trying to seduce him back to my side.

As for me, I am going to use it as an excuse to re-double my efforts.

I will not go into the coming new year without Jack. I will _not_.


	324. Thursday, December 3, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 6

  
I barely saw Jack today, though Dashi informs me that Spicer is muttering quite a bit to himself about me being a sneaky, underhanded monster. Apparently, just having him sleep beside me was enough to make him think _more_ with me.

I am a devious genius. >=]

Beyond that, nothing much is occurring. I feel like grilling some sausages – no! No, I believe I shall get hold of some barbecue ribs for dinner! All that sauce… nothing to do but lick fingers to get truly clean…

I love my brain, sometimes. Keep plotting this way, brain! Jack will be ours again before we know it!


	325. Friday, December 4, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 0

  
Why am I bothering?

Honestly, _why?_

He never came to dinner, despite my requesting him to. He said he wasn’t feeling well, so I refused to push the issue, even though it meant letting go of the barbecue sauce scheme.

It’s just as well. It would have been for nothing.

My current morose attitude comes from walking in on Jack today to roust out Dashi. I’d sensed my brother in Jack’s room, and that never means anything good.

I walked in to order him out, to leave Jack alone… and heard this:

“So I should be unhappy for the rest of my life living with and fucking a guy who'll never love me back because he can't. Sounds great.”

Gods damn it… I need to let him go.

….I _ought_ to let him go.

Fuck.


	326. Saturday, December 5, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 0

  
I stayed in the upper garden all day. I didn’t want to be anywhere near Jack.

Dashi stayed with me. He told me Jack was crying, but I suppose my cold response of “Good” stifled anything he had to say after that.

Instead, we sat together in the garden, meditating together.

It’s been a long, long time since I’ve done that with my brother.

It felt… strange. Simultaneously refreshing and joyful, but also this cloying, nagging feeling of pressure, like he was expecting something from me.

I finally went back to my bedroom, intending to sleep the headache away. For such a peaceful activity, meditation sometimes stirs up the worst migraines.

The only problem is that I can’t sleep. I know it is because of unresolved issues; the contest in my dark heart of What I Should Do and What I Will Do. Yet—


	327. Sunday, December 6, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 0

  
I am just now returning from an interruption that has carried time past midnight, and so it is a new day. Perhaps it truly is, with what I now have sitting in a crystal vase on my nightstand.

I had heard something moving stealthily at my bedroom door. While none of my warriors were rushing to my defense, and Dashi had not popped up with annoying commentary, I was still wary.

I went to the door, flung it open… and nothing was there.

Until I felt a crunch beneath my right foot.

I looked down and found a bundle of flowers, tied with a pretty ribbon. I picked them up and read the message that the purple hyacinth represented:

 _Regret. Please forgive me._

So. It seems my “little moon flower” does not hate me quite so much if he feels badly for hurting me as he did yesterday. This and the news from Dashi – that he was crying today, and that yesterday, before I’d walked in, Jack had been masturbating to thoughts of me – seem to indicate that there is still a chance to win Spicer.

The only question is: Do I still want to try? How many times must I make the effort only to be slapped back?

I never thought I’d say these words, but: I am not strong enough. I can’t do this anymore. Not without concrete fact that he wants me – not just physically, but _all_ of me; wants _life_ with me.


	328. Monday, December 7, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 0

  
I waited a full day and several hours before confronting Jack. Loath though I am to admit it to myself, I was afraid of the answer I would receive.

Once I acknowledged that fact to myself, it was all that I needed to spur me to action.

I cornered him and used a favor to get him to answer a question truthfully, knowing that if I didn’t, he would either refuse to answer or prevaricate.

I asked him: Do you still want me?

Jack hesitated, but he told the truth in reply: Yes. Yes, he very, very much wants me, even though he very, very much doesn’t want _to_ want me.

He tried to flee from me after that, but I cornered him again. I asked him if that meant only physical attraction, or if he wanted life _with_ me, wanted _all_ of me. He pointed out that I hadn’t asked a favor of him and so he didn’t have to answer.

And I said to him: “I am not asking as an overlord, Jack, but as a man who needs to know there is reason to not lose hope.”

It took several moments, but finally…

…he said that it’s more; that it _isn’t_ simply physical attraction.

After that, I permitted him to run away.

And so it seems that I am once more caught up in the exhausting struggle to win my lover back to me.


	329. Wednesday, December 9, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 0

  
Having made up my mind to continue the pursuit of my reluctant beloved, I spent yesterday making arrangements for yet another date.

We’d already eaten out twice – three times if the hot air balloon is counted. We’ve gone to the movies. What else do we like to do? Besides have sex.

Music.

Jack and I are both devotees of music, though our opinion on what _counts_ as music varies far and wide.

We do agree on _Twelve Girls Band_ , however.

Me being me, I spent yesterday in action to secure our date for tonight. I booked a private concert with the band. I handed over enough money and assured patronage to their manager that I seriously believe the man was ready to slip to his knees and service me. With the money I gave him, he and his band need not work to earn their keep for at least five years.

Tonight, Jack and I – dressed well and obviously rich – arrived for the private concert. We settled into our theater seats, wine and snacks at hand, and listened.

Or, rather, _I_ listened. Jack fell asleep halfway through the ensemble. Given that he likes this band’s music very much, I can only assume he did not sleep well last night. As soon as the band began playing _Forbidden City_ , as slow and soothing as a lullaby, he was out like a light.

I said nothing; merely wrapped my arm around him and cuddled him closer, since he’d slipped sideways to rest against me. I watched the musicians as they lost themselves in their own sound, utterly content with the music and the man pressed up against me.

Jack did not stay asleep for long. He woke up at the next song, _Butterfly_ – a much more vibrant piece. It is also slow, but it has definite impact points throughout the flow of sound; a sinuous throb and slide of music that demands attention enough to keep someone from sleeping.

Spicer was still muddled enough from his brief doze that he was apparently not conscious of where he was or in what time frame. Cozy, content, he leaned up and kissed me!

He seemed to realize something was “wrong” rather quickly, to my displeasure, and ran away again. I stayed where I was to listen to the band; I’d paid for their time and it would have been a slap in their face for their expensive audience to vanish without a word.

When the concert was over, I praised them, thanked them for their time, and handed over twelve small gifts chosen for their services. They bowed their thanks to me and I, finally, went to find Jack so I could take him home.

I did so in silence and, once we were back at the mountain, I left him to his own devices. I have noticed that every time _I_ push the issue, I am essentially slapped for my insolence. I shall leave it to him to make any gestures of intimacy.

….I shall _try_ to leave it to him to make any gestures of intimacy.


	330. Thursday, December 10, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 0 (they're gone, anyway; this _really_ must get resolved soon!)

  
That’s how fast it took me to cave in: one glass of wine.

Of course, the glass is big enough to hold an entire bottle of wine, so….

Oh, my. I am pathetic.

I found myself staring in a sappy fashion at the purple hyacinths still on my nightstand. I used a spell to freeze them as they are, so they won’t die. Next thing I know, I want to give him a gift.

…Dashi talked me out of presenting myself at Jack’s door with a ribbon wrapped around my penis.

Instead, I dug out the necklace I’d bought him ages ago and left it in its box on his pillow.

If he rejects it, throws it away… I’ll give up. I’ll flat-out give up.

Until that happens, however, I suppose I’ll take him on yet another date. But what to do…?

Ah, yes… I can spoil him rotten! More than I do now, anyway. I will take him shopping. Whatever he wants, I will buy it for him. I don’t care if he wants a Lamborghini; I will purchase it for him! Lamborghini…?

Hmmm. It seems my mind is settled on Italy as our destination.


	331. Friday, December 11, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 0

  
I am… so very, _very_ angry.

I am the type of angry that means the downfall of an entire civilization.

Someone tried to _murder_ myself and Spicer today!

Several someones, actually. An entire carload of them!

I took Jack to Milan. There is nothing quite as luxurious as shopping in Milan. He was not at all averse to the idea, either. In fact, he was muttering a list of things he wanted: confections, clothing, writing instruments and sketchbooks, reading material, games, luxury bath products… if it could be had, he would have it.

I am more than pleased that I have enough wealth to support him in style; from the sounds of it, he was going to try his level best to put a serious dent in that wealth.

Away we went! Milan was experiencing a warm front, which means it was comfortable to wear simple clothing, like turtlenecks and jackets and slacks. However, I knew that it was unusual for Milan to be that warm in December and scented the air. There is a storm building, coming across the Atlantic. It will be there within a week, bringing deathly cold and snow.

Anyway, we went to Milan. Jack was _not_ wearing the necklace, but neither was it in the trashcan. I will not consider it to be a rejection just yet.

I took him to Via Montenapoleone, _the_ street for fashion and all such accouterments. We stopped into Loro Piana for cashmere and wool high-end clothing. Montblanc was where Jack acquired pens, paper, sketchbooks, and a set of colored pencils in rich material that looked creamy and decadent on paper. Bottega Venata, he acquired a few new journals – as did I – and some leather clothing, such as jackets, gloves, and a sinful pair of black pants. I’m quite certain he tortured me with those on purpose.

He stopped into Frette and acquired new sheets for himself and, once I learned that his skin appreciated the fabric of those sheets, purchased over a dozen sets for my own bed as well as a blanket or two.

He went to Armani and Gucci for fragrances and yet more clothing and jewelry. He went to Ferragamo for shoes, Caffé Cova for chocolate, coffee, pastries, and wine.

In short, we were all over Via Montenapoleone. We had lunch, we shopped, he let me hold his hand. All in all, a sufficiently satisfactory outing up to then and I had even suggested we go to the Leonardo da Vinci National Museum of Science and Technology, which Jack seemed agreeable to.

We had just come out of an alley that we had ducked into so I could teleport our packages home when the assassins struck.

A car screeched to a halt almost directly in front of us; several yards away, but directly across from us. I saw the weapons lifted and spun, catching hold of Jack and pressing him tight against a stone wall before flattening myself over him from head to toes as our attackers opened fire.

The cacophony of sound from the machine guns chattering away at us, the stone wall blistering and cracking apart, and the screams of the dying wounded ripped through the air. I’m still a little hard of hearing and I know Jack is, too, but it is nothing I cannot handle.

My leather jacket – a rather expensive, perfectly tailored piece of clothing – was shredded apart upon impact from the bullets. What matters is that _Jack_ was not shredded apart.

As soon as they’d emptied their weapons, the attackers sped away. I pulled back to check for injury, but though he was gasping and in shock, Jack was fine. He looked at me, wide-eyed and shaking, and blurted out that I’d taken _bullets_ for him. Of course, bullets cannot hurt me and I said as much, to which he’d replied that they sure as hell could have hurt him.

I looked him directly in the eye and said, with every ounce of passion and affection I am capable of, “ _Never_.”

That seemed to shock him even more. I took him home immediately and, before I’d even started this entry, I checked on him. He’s had a bath, something to drink, and is now tucked into bed, freshly made up with his new linens and reading a book.

It is time for me to sleep as well. When I’m refreshed later, I will get to work on investigating this attack that was clearly aimed at the two of us.


	332. Saturday, December 12, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 5 (I have been gifted with more!)

  
At some point in the night, Spicer saw my back and the multitude of grotesque and painful bruises scattered there. I know he did, because when I woke up this morning, there was a plate of my favorite brandy butter-cream cupcakes waiting for me.

While it’s true that bullets cannot harm me in the traditional manner – i.e, perforate my flesh and organs, leaving me to bleed out or suffer severe shock and trauma – they can certainly leave some lasting damage behind if propelled with great enough force. Real bullets are to me what rubber bullets are to ordinary humans.

That being said: _GODS DAMN, **OW**._

Jack saw them, obviously. It is clear from the cupcakes that he feels grateful to me for saving his life.

A life that _Raimundo Pedrosa_ tried to take from me.

Even that putrid whore knows that mere bullets cannot kill me. Therefore, when he hired his cousins – members of an infamous South American gang that now has worldwide operations – he knew full well that only Jack would be killed if his plan worked.

I discovered this when I tracked down our attackers. I found on them the Golden Tiger Claws. There was only _one way_ for that to happen, and eventually… after enough blood loss and body parts loss… the assassins still alive felt the need to give me the information I required.

Pedrosa had been living with Bailey and Tohomiko on Bailey’s cattle ranch ever since the Xiaolin Dragons disbanded. He called his cousins to him and hired them to kill Jack Spicer and Chase Young. Of course, his cousins scoffed at him, telling him that Jack was dead. After he taught them how to use the GTCs, crippled as he was, they believed he was possibly telling the truth. For the amount of money he was paying them, why not?

Of course, they decided to _keep_ the GTCs. With those, they could have easily openly ruled the world in a matter of weeks instead of being an unstoppable, hidden cancer in society.

Pedrosa hired them; told them to use the GTCs by having the Shen-Gong-Wu take them to where Jack Spicer and Chase Young were, and kill us dead. The GTC had identified myself and Spicer to the thugs, despite my notice-us-not spell; all they had to do was fire their weapons.

They saw me put Jack against the wall, but had been confident that they’d succeeded.

I took hours to show them the error of their ways. Then, I used the GTCs to pull Pedrosa through time and space with a summoning spell. He landed face-down in the innards of one of his cousins.

I was intent on killing him then and there, but the way he snarled Jack’s name as he loudly hoped the “freak son of a bitch” was dead, I had a better idea.

Pedrosa is currently chained in the lowest dungeon. In the event that desperation lends him the strength to learn how to use his wind powers without being able to move, I don’t want him to fly away home.

He will keep until later.

For now, I need a shower to clean the gore out of my hair and skin, a relaxing bath to soothe the ache in my back, and more cupcakes.


	333. Sunday, December 13, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 2 (5 remaining)

  
I went down to the dungeon cell Pedrosa was in early this morning just to make certain he hadn’t died during the night.

Not only _hadn’t_ he died, but he snarled hateful things at me; about how he’d find another way to make Jack – my “white piece of ass” – pay for what he’d done to him.

And that is why, when I woke Jack up only a few minutes later, my beloved looked quite frightened of me. I know that when I reach a certain level of angry that I go blank-faced and cold. As angry as I was, I could have been carved from granite for all Jack knew.

I rousted him out of bed, had him get dressed, and then brought him down to the dungeon. I’d already laid Pedrosa out, free of chains, and several instruments of pain and torture.

Jack was understandably confused, so I explained to him what I had discovered about him being the mastermind behind the attack in Italy. I also explained that the attackers were horribly, brutally dead… but that Pedrosa was for _Jack_ to do away with. He looked uneasy with this knowledge, looking from Pedrosa (now suitably frightened) to me and back again. He was probably wondering why I was allowing him to kill my “back-up whore” or whatever stupid thing he was thinking.

All he needed to know was that if he did not feel like sullying his hands with Pedrosa, then he merely needed to order _me_ to do it. However he wished, I would be the one to torture Pedrosa to death.

Getting over whatever squeamishness he’d encountered, Jack settled for a little of column A and a little of column B.

He began with having me rip out Pedrosa’s other eye. I did so by morphing one hand into a scaly appendage, unsheathed one long finger-claw, and dug that claw into the green eye. I punctured through the tightly closed eyelid and pressed in, careful not to go too far lest I scramble his brain and kill him immediately. Digging around, swirling, scraping, I cut the jelly sack of a visual organ free, scooped it out, and flung it into a nearby fire.

Pedrosa was screaming in agony and terror. The fact that he was unable to run away from his tormentors, could not move even a single muscle to save himself, and was now blind as well accounted for plenty of that terror.

From then on it was a smorgasbord of pain. I was ordered to break his fingers and toes, one by one. A tug, a snap… sometimes a crunch; several little wiggles to be _certain_ those long bones were broken. Then came the cutting, and I used a wood-carving knife to take off pieces of him. Jack, being hyper-sensitive, knew where all of the most painful spots would be. Earlobes were cut away, a lip partially carved off, and Pedrosa’s nostrils were slit open.

By this point, he was gargling spit and blood. I was forced to use a spell to keep his throat clear. He would not die by suffocating on his own fluids unless _Jack_ willed it.

But that was not what Jack was after.

He next had me morph my hands again, the claws unsheathed, and I gouged horrible cuts deep into Pedrosa’s face. I marked him in such a way that, had he lived, he’d have made street brawlers and surgeons puke at the sight of him.

The final thing Jack had me do, and I can certainly interpret the symbolism behind this last savage act, was to rip Pedrosa’s penis from his body and then cram it up his ass.

In retrospect, I suppose I should be grateful he did not order me to rip my own penis away. Not that I would have, but the general “dodged a bullet” sensation is there.

Pedrosa was well on his way toward death, but that wasn’t enough for Jack. As soon as I stepped back away from the body, he waded in with his fists and feet swinging, snarling hateful things and screaming about how Pedrosa had “stolen” from him.

Several minutes later, I pulled him off of the dead body. I held him aloft by his jacket collar and ordered him to calm down as he struggled fitfully. Some safety breaker in his mind flipped and he was back to normal. I continued to hold him, letting him look his fill of his defeated enemy while he breathed and got himself fully under control. He confirmed my own suspicion that there was no way he was going to be steady on his feet, so I carried him back to his bedroom.

As I did so, I noticed he’d cut his knuckles open on Pedrosa’s teeth. Given the sheer amount of bacteria in a human mouth at any given time, I took it upon myself to clean his wounds to prevent a staph infection. I tried to leave, then, to give him privacy for whatever release he needed, but he stopped me.

He _thanked_ me.

I was surprised, but thinking about it, I shouldn’t have been. I had just given him revenge against his hated enemy – and _me_ , if his mind thought to go there, by allowing him to use me, to direct me, in the mutilation and murder of his rival. Naturally, I feel no pain or loss with Pedrosa’s passing, but I will not let it be known. Better to let Jack believe he’s won a “victory” in regards to me, even though he’d won long ago when I chose him over Pedrosa, that last stupid incident notwithstanding.

I accepted his gratitude, kissed his mouth, and finally left him to go bathe.

Dashi was waiting for me when I walked into my room. He gave me such a deep, dark look of regret and sadness, and then vanished without a word.

I almost feel sorry in that I do not feel sorry a bit, if only for my brother’s sake.

Then again, I’m the reason he’s a ghost now, so any sympathy on my part is spurious at best.

Ah, I am tired. I have earned a good long sleep tonight.


	334. Monday, December 14, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 1 (4 remaining)

  
I got to cuddle with Jack again last night!

The past few days, I have been less than mellow. I have been downright homicidal, in fact – as the large puddle of red, vaguely human-shaped gore in my lowest dungeon will attest.

Now is a time for “chilling out,” as the modern people would say.

As it is, Dashi is still mad at me for what I did – not that I care. When I first decided on tracking down the attackers, he’d tried to talk me out of it; to work off my anger by playing childish pranks on Guan like we used to do when we were children. I responded by telling him, no, the only correct way to deal with the situation was copious violence and death. Understandably, he went a little squeamish for the ghost of a man who was violently murdered himself.

  
Me: You should know better by now than to try and change me. I have been as I am for _centuries_. Did you really think one suggestion from you would undo that?

Dashi: A guy can try. I'm a _monk_ , Chase. I'm not going to condone murder.

Me: I never asked for you to condone it. I was merely telling you my agenda for the day.

Dashi: The ubiquitous 'they' were right: ignorance truly _is_ bliss.

Me: *eyeroll* Have fun being dead and Xiaolin. I'm going to go be alive and Heylin and kill my enemies in cold blood.

Dashi: That's just mean, bro.

Me: Evil.

Dashi: That, too.

  
So, of course, I murdered the gang members and then Pedrosa. Afterwards, as tired as I was, I was still tense and could not sleep. I roamed about my palace for a little bit and came upon Dashi meditating in a garden.

  
Me: Hello, my brother!

Dashi: *coldly ignores me*

Chase: ...Let me guess: You were disturbed by what happened with Pedrosa.

Dashi: *vanishes to somewhere else*

Chase: If I'd known the way to get rid of you was to murder someone, I'd have painted a bloodbath from here to Barbados.

Dashi: *pops back in* You...! You are just... you're... AUGH, _stupid_ little brother, you are a _monster_.

Chase: *GRIN* Thank you, Captain Obvious. Any other pearls of wisdom for today or can I get back to trying to coax Jack back to me?

Dashi: *GLARE, vanishes again*

  
Mentioning Jack helped me realize precisely what I needed to relax enough to sleep: I needed Jack.

I went to him, hoping he’d let me stay in his presence, but he was asleep by that point. Figuring that what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, I joined him in bed for a cuddle. Dashi, of course, could not leave well enough alone.

  
Dashi: *pops in* _And_ you're a creep and a pervert. *pops back out again*

Me: *snort* Caring so deeply for my estranged beloved that I wish to share a bed with him for a few moments makes me a creepy pervert? Fine. I'm a creepy pervert. *nuzzles the back of Jack's neck*

Dashi: *pops back in* _Without_ his permission to _be_ in said bed? Per. Vert. *points at me*

Chase: He let me _kiss_ him today! I doubt he'll mind a few minutes of _spooning_.

Dashi: Give an inch, take a mile. Or, in this case, give a kiss, take an... I can't say it. *grimace*

Chase: Ah, so here we come to the root of your accusations. It's not that I'm a pervert, it's that you're a prude.

Dashi: I am _not_. I just think it's unseemly that you're forcing your wants on him while he's unconscious.

Jack: *snorks awake* Wha's with all the fuckin' yelling?

Me: Hello, Jack. *kiss to the cheek*

Jack: *grunts* Eh. The fuck're you doin' h... fuck it, nev’mind. *flop, snuggle*

Me: *grins and cuddles* See? He doesn't mind.

Dashi: *goes away to meditate*

Jack: *belatedly and halfheartedly* This doesn' mean anything. You earned this much, but I'm still not... _we’re_ still not... you know.

Me: Shhhh. You've been through a trauma. *kisses his forehead*

Jack: *makes a noise of assent, cuddles closer*

Me: *very much a sappy dolt at that moment*

Jack: *snore*

  
And thus it was I finally relaxed enough to get some sleep. Jack, I imagine, is less than pleased at my sneaky temerity, but just who is the overlord around here, anyway?


	335. Tuesday, December 15, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 0 (rationing again; 4)

  
The bruises have been slow to fade. They struck with the same force as if Bailey had hurled a punch while wearing the Fist of Tebigong, so it’s hardly surprising.

Me being the devious genius that I am, I was quick to take advantage of Jack’s gratitude/guilt complex in me having taken the bullets for him. I went to him requesting his help in putting ointment on my back. >=]

Out of deference to him, since I hadn’t even used a debt-favor to get him to agree, I wore my trousers… but that was it. I laid down on my bed, pulled my hair up to spill over the mattress and cover my face, and pillowed my head on my arms. Jack had no choice but to straddle my hips. His groin was snugged to my backside and _believe me_ , I was checking for signs of interest.

Then, he began massaging the ointment into my back, and I forgot about sex in favor of attending to the blissful sensation of strong fingers rubbing healing lotion into my skin.

Ahhhhh… it was _marvelous_. I certainly let him know it with a plethora of contented groans and purrs.

By the end of the massage, I could feel a definite sign of interest. He wasn’t fully hard, but I could feel some pressure and smell his arousal. Since I had made that much progress, however, and antagonizing him would only have ruined everything, I chose not to comment on it. Instead, I thanked him and decided to take a nap.

Once I took care of my own “interest,” that is. >=]


	336. Wednesday, December 16, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 0 (rationing again; 4)

  
Today, I threw Jack into a volcano.

Of course, I went into the volcano with him. I had a dream in which Jack had dared me to take him someplace he’d _never_ been before. After trying to take him to the depths of the ocean and the heights of space, I finally figured out that the only element he’d never spent time in had been fire of any sort because mortal humans are ridiculously flammable.

When I woke up, I remembered the dream and thought about what places I could take him on a date. It took most of the day, but I finally realized: _Volcano_.

Only I have the power to keep myself and anyone else safe inside a volcano, and I do mean _inside_ a volcano. So, I went to him, invoked a favor, and took him to a volcano up in Iceland that is becoming quite active. Within six months, it should erupt and cause quite a ruckus throughout the northern European hemisphere.

Jack and I appeared on the rim of the volcano. As I hadn’t told him _where_ we were going, he was understandably distressed. Perhaps he feared that I had finally snapped; would rather kill us both if I couldn’t have him.

No, Spicer… I’m not to that point. _Yet_.

Anyway! We were there, staring down into a cauldron of super-hot, super-bright magma. Already, his sensitive eyes were wincing against the brightness. Jack was frightened, saying _no_ , he didn’t want to, screw his honor he’d break his word, just _no_ to death!

Technically, I am quite in agreement with that vehement denial of mortal ending, but this wasn’t about death, it was about trust.

My own eyes, I know, were glowing; an indicator that I was literally in my element, or close to it. I locked gazes with Jack and asked him to trust me. He turned away; a blatant sign of vulnerability to me, so I cupped his chin in my hand and _made_ him look at me. I reminded him of the bruises on my back that he himself had seen and tended to. I reminded him that I would rather accept pain for myself than suffer his.

Trust me, Jack; I will _not_ let you suffer harm under my care.

Not again. Not if I can help it.

Apparently, he believed me. Apparently, he still trusts me.

He let me jump him into a volcano.

Jack shrieked on the way down. Human instinct is a powerful thing to overcome, and as far as his brain knew, he was committing suicide. We plunged into the magma, my will and my power keeping us safely cocooned against the heat and the ferocity of the molten rock. By this I mean that we still _felt_ the heat, but we did not burst into flame from the sheer intensity of it.

I could see, while it was obvious that his eyes were not able to adjust to the intensity of the light. I cast a quick spell to keep his eyes from suffering permanent blinding damage, but he was still overwhelmed by the brightness. Tears were stung from his eyes, streaking down over his cheeks, and I looked my fill of him.

He is utterly gorgeous when surrounded by heat and fire.

The colors of my element painted his skin gold and orange and red; he became a living reflection of the color palette of fire. His red eyes appeared to flicker and dance the way flame does in a hearth. The shimmering light and heat quickly dried the tears on his face, but until they did, the wetness formed glimmering trails of liquid fire on his skin.

I _craved_ him at that moment. As if I had never had carnal knowledge of him before, I hungered to possess him. If he had given the word, I’d have stripped us both naked and made love to him there and then, enclosed in a pool of magma.

Unfortunately, his body still possesses mortal limitations. Very fast, his breathing began to suffer from the intensity of the heat. Jack’s mouth began opening wider and he began working harder to get air to himself. The spell worked partly as an air filter, dragging whatever precious oxygen molecules could be found through to the person encased in the protective barrier, but there wasn’t much to be had.

I took him topside again and gradually reduced the spell barrier. Had I simply taken him home, or removed the spell immediately, the subsequent cold of not-magma would have shocked him into hypothermia. By the time it wore away, his vision had returned and he gave me a smile before forcing a look of disinterest on his face and turning away. I took him home and he went off to do his own thing.

I have counted today as a win, though Dashi has remarked that only I was crazy enough to think of throwing my beloved into a volcano in an attempt to be impressive and romantic. I reminded him that he couldn’t say much on the subject as, when he was a teenaged monk, he tried the same stunt in a river with the farm girl he kept sneaking out to sneak kisses with.

His weakling reply was that at least he’d died with his virginity intact and flicked off to go pout somewhere.

Ha! I’ve _had_ virginity, and it didn’t mean a damned thing to me. Why have virginity when you could have the pleasure of fucking and orgasm? Monk celibacy is a pointless effort.

….I just realized that, except for my own right hand and that mind-fuck date at the kaiten restaurant, I have been mostly celibate myself.

Ordinarily, I would remedy the situation. The problem is, the only one I have even the slightest interest in remedying it with is Spicer, and he’s still saying no.

Grah. Maybe I should start lurking where Jack can happen upon me, catch me in the midst of pleasuring myself, and so overwhelm him with lust that he loses all sense and reason and pounces on me?

…….I am so very pathetic.


	337. Thursday, December 17, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 2 (to steel my nerves; 2 remaining)

  
I invoked another favor from Jack, which leaves me with only one left.

I am _not_ pleased with this. I had thought to win him back without creating more favors, but it’s looking as if I might have to.

At any rate, I wanted another date with him. I got to thinking about outer space again last night, and I realized that it has been months since we went up there. I had thought we might do that again, but Dashi pointed out to me that the mortals are making great leaps and strides in crafting their spaceships for interstellar travel. Most of those ships are being created in orbit above the planet to reduce resource expenditures. We would surely be noticed if we went floating about up there.

So, I changed tactics and decided to keep us down to Earth, literally. I wanted something earthy and sensual with him, and so I decided to take him dancing.

I took him to a club in New York City. He was wearing simple slacks and a shirt, the collar open to show his neck and a bit of his chest. I wanted to lick that V of skin so _very_ much. I restrained myself, flashed enough cash to get us past the bouncer, and we were in.

Jack didn’t want to dance with me at first. He recognized that this was intimate dancing; where the participants dance with each other, expressing emotion through movement. There were several couples on the dance floor that were all but fornicating right there. Eventually, he let me lead him out onto the floor and we spoke through the language of the body.

The following is my interpretation of what I had to “say” and what I felt Jack “said” to me:

  
Me: *dances, every motion of my body saying "I crave you, every part of you; want me again, _love_ me!"*

Jack: *caught in the moment, dancing _almost_ the same way; still that _tiny_  
hint of hesitance that says, "You hurt me _bad_."*

Me: *slinks and slides and curls around him, protecting him, sheltering him, wanting him; "Never, never again – can't you feel how much you matter to me? Can't you feel my desperation to have _you_ back?"*

Jack: *mimics, nuzzles, clings; "Want, want, want, _want_ that! Scared, though, _can’t_ get hurt again, can't handle that again, not from _you_."*

Me: *nuzzles back, making rough and greedy little sounds of need; "I'm dying without you, without your affection; I'm dying on my feet, I'm dying each day I wake up and you're still not mine again. There has never been anyone like you before and there never will be again and if you don't take me back, if you don't come back, I have nothing – no reason to go on."*

Jack: *practically whimpering; "This is killing me. I love you, but I can't...I don't... _Gah!_ ” breaks away and hurries off the dance floor to compose himself*

  
He fled from me; went again to a restroom to get control of himself and I… well, I lost _mine_.

The people around me were cut down with swift and deadly accuracy. I went into my monster form and tore apart anyone and anything around me. Blood and gore spattered everywhere, screams rang through the room… it was a monk’s nightmare of violence.

Little wonder, then, as the club was swiftly deserted by the survivors and I was left to rage and tantrum, Dashi showed up to lecture me.

  
Dashi: *pops up* Don't feel bad, kiddo, you made some good progress!

Me: *snarls and tears apart the already mutilated corpse of a woman*

Dashi: A week or two ago, he wouldn't even let you touch him! Now, he's practically humping you on the dance floor and you're _mad?_

Me: *entirely pissed off, frustrated, _horny_ and wanting Jack to love me again!*

Dashi: Listen, you were pissed off when he screwed that one guy for revenge-sex, right?

Me: *sits on my haunches and makes the most revoltingly pathetic dragon-y crying noises*

Dashi: There you go, now imagine what you're feeling from Spicer's ridiculously emotionally-delicate perspective; and for effect, imagine it was _Bean_ he fucked.

Me: *bolts straight upright and ROARS* ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE?! WHAT KIND OF RETARDED INSANE – YOUR BRAIN – WHAT – I DON'T – JAAAAAAAAAAAAACK! JACK! YOU DIDN'T FUCK _BEAN_ , DID YOU?!

Dashi: He didn't, calm down – and I’m using some influence of my own to keep him from hearing all this, by the way. But that right there – your fear and pain that he did the dirty with the one creature you hate most – is about what Jack felt when he caught you with Rai, only a _lot_ more hurt.

Me: .............FUCK. FUCK AND DAMN AND – AND – AND JUST _SHIT_.

Dashi: The bad news: not a good feeling for poor Spicer; it's a wonder he's even talking to you. The good news: he _is_ talking to you. He _is_ going out on these dates with you and enjoying your presence whether he openly admits it or not. He loves you _so damn much_ that all that hurt _wasn’t_ the end of you two. Keep working at it, little brother, you're making progress.

Me: _What_ progress? Every time I try to show him, try to _tell_ him, that I am _in love_ with him, he runs away!

Dashi: 'Cause he can't handle it. You're getting closer and closer to breaking his defenses down again, and that _terrifies_ him – so he runs. Notice, if you will, that it's taking longer and longer for the running to happen.

Me: *growls* At this rate, it's going to take ten billion years.

Dashi: Like you don't have that kind of time?

Me: _He_ doesn't. *transforms back to human, absolutely sick with fear* I haven't given him the potion I made him, the combination of spells... I haven't... he's still _mortal_....

Dashi: I'd bet you money that he _won’t_ be mortal by the end of the year, but I'm kind of a ghost, so...

Me: Oh, piss off! *storms away*

Dashi: *calls after* Keep at it, Chase, he WUUUUUUUUUUUUUVS you!

Me: *gives his brother the finger and vanishes*

  
Fortunately, it didn’t take too long to realize I’d left Jack behind when I’d left to get away from my brother. It’s a good thing I went back when I did, too, because I arrived to hear Jack say this to Dashi:

“If you were in……. with someone as complicated as him, you’d be confused, too.”

Jack didn’t say my name, and he didn’t say the word ‘love’, but by all the unholies, Dashi was _RIGHT_.

Jack _does_ still love me!

I took Jack home, with him muttering about how me and my family is going to be the death of him. I gave him an enigmatic smile, an even more so response, and then followed him as he went to his room.

I asked him for a goodnight kiss. >=]

He snarled at me to not push my luck and tried to slam the door in my face, but I asked for “just a little one.”

Clearly, against his better judgment, he decided to humor me.

The “little” kiss turned out to be not so little. By the time he _did_ shut the door in my face, I’d had him pressed up against said door, kissing him hungrily and he was returning the kiss with gusto. If he hadn’t come to his senses, I might have been able to rut him up against that door, the both of us fully clothed and rubbing and grinding…

A lovely fantasy.

But now, I have other things to consider. I know I hurt Jack when I fucked Pedrosa. I simply hadn’t been aware of how _badly_ he had been hurting. I had thought that it was posturing; some kind of juvenile bratting out and perhaps a clever manipulation to secure himself to me using genuine hurt feelings.

With Dashi’s comparison of how I felt when it was only _implied_ that Jack might have fucked Bean to how Jack felt at _knowing_ I had fucked Pedrosa….

My eyes are open now. I understand how heinously I hurt and insulted Jack. True, I felt no tender emotions for the man-whore; I simply dominated him and used him. But the fact that he was Jack’s hated rival was the straw that broke the albino camel’s back.

I understand that I have wronged him in a way that even I cannot justify. I also realize that I have gone into this thinking that he _knew_ how I see him; that he _knew_ how much I feel for him and how much I would sacrifice for him.

I think I should start truly _romancing_ him. Instead of going into this with the obvious intention to get him back, I should simply give him the knowledge of what he means to me.

I have one favor left. Here’s hoping I don’t screw up.


	338. Friday, December 18, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 1 (1 remaining)

  
I haven’t seen Spicer all day today. I asked Dashi to peek in on him. My brother reported back to me that he seems to be fretting and stewing about something. If he had his guess, it would be that Jack is trying to reconcile what he feels for me with what I did to hurt him.

I have to say that I fully agree. Jack does still feel for me, though it is obvious to all and sundry that he’d rather _not_.

I can’t lose him, though. I simply cannot.

Gods help me. I know I haven’t earned any favors, but I’m going to need all the help I can get.


	339. Saturday, December 19, 4707

  
Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 0 (1 remaining)

  
Oh, what a _night!_ >=]

I took Jack to the Space Needle in Seattle, Washington, United States. While I don’t particularly give a damn about what nation calls itself whatever, I _do_ choose locations on the view. Much like the Tokyo Sky Tree, the Space Needle is tall and has an outstanding view of nearby natural monuments. Having learned that Jack loves to be high up and afforded an extravagant view, of course I took him there.

I escorted him over after darkness had fallen and the moon was out. I wanted to see him in moonlight. Only, I was afforded an extra special treat, for circling the base of his lovely neck was none other than the ruby and diamond necklace I had given him. The flat, rectangular links of hematite nestled smoothly along his collar bones and the tiny chips of ruby and diamond glittered with subtle luxury.

When I had chosen it, I had done so because I knew it would look very much like a collar on him when he wore it. I was correct, and so I spent the evening looking at him willingly wearing a mark of my ownership around his neck.

How I kept control of myself, I’ll never know.

We were seated soon enough at a prime table in the rotating restaurant. I looked my fill of him as we ordered and received our food. Jack, however, kept avoiding my eyes. It took most of our evening out together, but he finally got caught in my gaze when the waiter came to ask us how we were faring.

Jack looked up at me and we were both lost.

The waiter clearly departed when neither of us answered him, but I don’t recall it. What I do remember is that we had rotated into range of the moon again. Cool blue-white light poured in over us and Jack’s skin lit up like a star. Gods, _gods!_ Could he be any more perfect, any more beautiful? I doubt it. I believe the ruling forces of our world gave their best, their all, in the creation of Jack Spicer.

I spoke to him; told him of how beautiful he was in that moment… more beautiful than I had ever seen him. Immediately, I took it back as memory flashed across my mind. He looked hurt for a few moments until I explained that I _had_ seen him looking more beautiful the day I woke up to find him returned to my home, healed of that devastating brain death without flaw. I had been so very certain I had lost him that I had already been making plans to break the world into an asteroid field, so to have him returned to me….

His blush having faded in his hurt, it came back twice as strong with that statement.

I then asked him if he remembered the day we’d first met. He didn’t, so I confessed to him that, yes, I’d gone to investigate the monks – but also, him. I couldn’t believe that anyone colored like him was natural.

My shock, my anger, my revulsion when he fell into my arms and his natural beauty was revealed! I’d hated myself so much; feared that I truly was a disgusting pervert as many had claimed me to be, because he’d been a _child_ … yet, I’d wanted to strip him naked and pose him in my home. I wanted nothing sexual from him then, but I knew if I had taken him home with me _precisely_ how it would look.

I shifted the conversation then to the topic of his eyes. Gods, those gorgeous red things…! Living ruby, sentient and vibrant. I love them so much. I told him so, described how beautiful they are, and said that if I could, I would kiss his eyes.

Jack managed to speak and accused me of baseless flattery; that I was saying anything to get him to my side. I refuted the claim. I was giving him everything my mind was thinking; simple stream-of-consciousness reporting.

He said it was making him uncomfortable and asked me to stop. I acquiesced and told him that I would stop telling him of how the sight of him so beautiful in the moonlight was making me insane with greed.

Jack claimed that he didn’t know _what_ to think anymore, and that he was so confused he felt as if he were being driven mad himself. He tried to explain it, couldn’t… silenced himself for fear of looking stupid. I corrected him and encouraged him to speak, to tell me what he wanted. When I said I would offer him anything to fix us, he paused… and then, he hit me with a bombshell as he announced that neither of us had really taken the time to _talk_ about it. This entire time, there had been posturing, threats, violence, and ostentatious courtship displays, but we never actually _talked_.

I wanted to hit myself for that oversight. All of this could have been avoided if I had simply conversed with him, but on the other hand, I have greatly enjoyed taking Jack on dates. If I am lucky enough to officially win him back to me, then I shall continue taking him on dates.

So, we began to talk. I told him how caught unawares I had been of his reaction. He is a genius, he knew what I was going into this, so I had no idea he would react so badly to seeing me fuck another person. I am a Heylin Lord, and the time period I was born and raised in, and the centuries following, were host to the way of thinking that multiple partners are normal. It is only in the last hundred years that monogamy has caught on, and as I have witnessed, it is causing more strife than accord.

Jack was quick to remind me, however, that he was not born 1500 years ago and had not lived those same 1500 years. He was born and raised in this monogamous time period, and so he had grown up with the thought that he would, hopefully, be the only one.

I promised him then and there, meant it whole-heartedly then and now, that I would be that for him if that was what he needed – I would be monogamous for him.

I don’t know who was more surprised: me or him.

I then asked him if it would help him to know that Pedrosa had meant nothing to me emotionally. The impudent doxy had _challenged_ me, after all, with his implication that I had lost power; that I was the one in thrall, that I was the one wearing a leash and collar.

…I think, perhaps, Pedrosa might have been right. I have just promised to tie myself to Spicer and only Spicer. I am so in love with the lovely young man sitting across from me that I will accept any shackle to secure him to me.

How utterly galling to know that I dominated and fucked the Brazilian whore for nothing.

I explained the _why_ I had done it to Jack; tried to convince him that I had wanted to degrade and humble Pedrosa but not him, never him.

He then confronted me with the fact that he had questions he wanted answered, or at least one question, but he was terrified to ask because I would only say what he wanted to hear. I countered that with the truth. Of _course_ I am telling him what he wants to hear, but it is also the truth. I told him I would always tell him what he wanted to hear, even if it _is_ the truth he wants.

So, Jack asked me: “How long? How long things had been going on with Rai? Had it been months, a month, weeks…?”

I gave him the answer he wanted and needed: that it had been only a single incident, never to be repeated even if Jack had not tried to run, even if Pedrosa had not been executed. Jack has been the only male I have been with since February. He was not my only sexual partner if he counts Katnappé, but if not, then it has been only him.

Prudently, I did not tell him of the private fantasies I’d had of a threesome; of the _both_ of us using Pedrosa as our whore so that I had two pretty young things in my bed, servicing me. Had he asked for that information specifically, I would have told him. As it stands, Jack seemed to collapse in on himself in relief to know that he had been the only man in my life for the last nine months.

I stood up then and asked him to come with me out on the observation deck. I wanted to see him out in the cold, crisp, winter night with the moonlight shining on him. I would keep him warm and, in fact, cast a subtle spell on him as we climbed up the stairs to the observation deck, leaving everyone else below us.

I snapped my fingers, magically procuring soft, sentimental string music from thin air, and asked him to dance with me again. Imagine my joy when he agreed without hesitation.

I pulled him close to me and my fingers crept up to the collar of ice, fire, and darkness circling his throat. I touched the necklace, my mark of adoration and ownership on him, and asked him to merely think on my following question:

What does it mean that I am Chase Young and he has me absolutely terrified that I will fail to win him back?

We danced after I asked him that. We danced for nearly an hour, lost in each other… lost in our kisses. I kissed him in the moonlight and if, by some unfathomable reason, I lose him anyway, I will remember him by moonlight.

We danced, we kissed… I took him home and kissed him some more. I teleported us to the hallway our bedrooms reside in and kissed him for the entire length of said hallway. We arrived at his door and I left it to him to invite me in… but he simply whispered goodnight against my mouth, kissed me once more, and then disappeared into his room.

I went to my own room after that to take care of my urgent and needy arousal. When I came out of my bathroom, however, Dashi was waiting for me. He then accused me of “screwing up the whole thing” and when I wanted to know how he figured _that_ had happened, he wanted to know why Jack wasn’t there and we weren’t _boinking_.

What a revolting and yet humorous phrase to come out of my brother’s mouth.

I explained to him that the evening had, in fact, been unmitigated success in that both Jack and I had hauled our heads out of our asses and actually _talked_ about what had happened. We cleared the air and I, personally, feel that the trial and tribulation is over.

Jack is wearing the necklace I gave him, willingly. He kissed me willingly. The look in his crimson eyes when I gave him the truth….

Yes. Yes. He is mine, again.


	340. Sunday, December 20, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 1 (no worries; I expect there shall be more, soon!)

  
Today was wonderful.

It began with a breakfast very much like the ones Jack and I used to share before The Unpleasantness. He cooked breakfast for both of us, and then we settled in and relaxed. I read a newspaper, he read a newspaper.

Mine did not contain such gems as the fact that a telephone company is refusing to terminate the ‘phone service of a _dead_ man. In fact, they are claiming that a death certificate is not proof enough!

Jack took that information and ran with it.

  
“Hey, honey, how's it going?"

"Bill? OH, MY GOD, I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD!"

"I am!"

"What? Then, how...?"

"Zombie apocalypse is starting and I figured I'd call to give you a heads up. Good thing my cell phone service wasn't cancelled, huh?"

"......................"

"I'll be by to chew on your brains a little bit later, sweetie. See ya' soon!”

  
I almost fell out of my chair, I was laughing so hard. >=]

I have _missed_ this camaraderie so very much.

I’m so glad Jack is coming back to me.


	341. Monday, December 21, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 55  
Cupcakes: 0 (couldn't face them, even _if_ I had any!)

  
I really am in no mood to go over this, so I shall make it brief.

Spicer apparently wants things his own way. He is teasing me with enough interest to keep me going, but refuses to actually give himself to me again.

I had been so certain he was mine again after the last couple of days. Today proved he is not. I went to him in the lab, nuzzled his neck (still wearing that _fucking_ mistake of a necklace), nipped him, tried to kiss him. I thought he was _mine_.

But, oh no, not so. He pulled away, declared himself “not ready.”

I called him a cocktease, to which he replied he was confused and he didn’t want to fuck me if there was a chance he didn’t _really_ mean it.

I informed him that it was beyond obvious he would _never_ mean it. All I have done has been because I love him. I have humbled myself to him, I have gone to the ends of the earth for him. _None_ of that has mattered, it would _never_ be enough for him. The vicious little bitch is still feeling _precious_ and is trying to hurt me using sex to do it.

The difference between Spicer and I is that I never _tried_ to hurt him with sex.

Spicer being the retarded idiot he is promptly declared that he _knew_ he’d been hurting me, that he felt _bad_ about it, but he was _still_ trying to get over his hurt feelings. Honestly – I fuck someone because I _can_ and he has a complete mental breakdown over it? How fucking delicate can one man be?

He then told me that all of my pushing for sex, my eagerness to fuck him again, my wanting to have my “fuck-buddy” back was not helping him get over it any time soon.

That’s when I hit _him_ with a bombshell: It was never about the _fucking_. I wanted my _lover_ back because _I love him_.

Or, rather, I _used_ to.

……Gods help me, I still do.

Irony is that our situations are now reversed. _I_ am the petty monster in love and _not_ wanting to be.

So, as he stared goggling at me, I told him that I am fully capable of love. It is hardly the sticky-sweet romantic love so often portrayed in fairy tales. Mine is dark and callous, but it _is_ love.

Love enough to work so very hard at crafting an immortality spell so I would not lose him to mortal death.

I gave him this information and then I congratulated him on, at last, finally throwing me away and that I would not bother him again.

I am… numb, but not numb enough.

I want to… be nothing.

I’m going to go… I don’t know.

I hurt.


	342. Saturday, December 26, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 56  
Cupcakes: 12 (my cupcake worries are over with, I do believe!)

  
The old adage about a woman scorned applies even more so when that woman is a Heylin witch.

I spent two… three? Whatever. After the heartbreaking certainty that Jack and I were finished, I went to bed and curled up under the blankets and _stayed_ there. I vaguely recall Dashi attempting to talk to me, but I couldn’t have cared less at the time.

The next thing I was fully aware of was coming to, naked, strapped spread-eagle and upright by chains and magical bindings, in a cave surrounded by water; two elements that hampered my own, and being glared at by Wuya.

It seems she did not take my declaration of her worthlessness well when I swatted her aside during my attack on Bean.

It was fun and games from then on.

Yes, that was sarcasm.

  
Wuya: *smirking* Oh, how the mighty _are_ fallen. *slaps my face* It was ridiculously easy to capture you, Chase. Tell me… how _did_ I manage that?

Me: *sneer* You got lucky, wench. That is all.

Wuya: *slaps me again, laughing* The hell I did, Chase. I think I know what _truly_ happened. You are _weak_ ; that is why I captured you so easily. Without bolstering from supernatural forces, you are nothing. Remember the Heylin Eclipse? None of us were with power, and yet, Bean and I both managed to beat you down until you ran away. Now, the same is true again. You were made vulnerable by your own damnable _heart_. You allowed yourself to _love_. You gave your adoration to a petty boy-whore and he spurned you because he does not love you and never will. You were captured so easily because you were _crying_ about being unloved and unwanted. Weak. Pathetic!

  
I admit, the words hurt me with their truth. I had given my all, I had made myself vulnerable, and paid the price for it.

That didn’t mean I was going to _take_ what she was saying.

I spat in her face, literally. I hit her right between the eyes with it.

I paid for _that_ , too, because she hurled her fist into my crotch with every ounce of strength she possessed. She was a martial artist master before she was a witch. No matter her age, and even more so now that she is without full access to magic, she keeps herself strong and well-trained.

By the time my mind cleared of blinding agony, she was well into the middle of a monologue rant. Unfortunately for me, I came to just in time to hear her talking about the very equipment she’d just injured.

  
Wuya: … _plans_ for that prick of yours. _You_ are worthless, but your cock serves very well. I will use you as I see fit and then, I will use _this_. *shows me the Sun Chi Lantern* After I have what I want from your body, I will have your essence; your power, your strength, and finally, I will be fully restored and _no one_ will stop me!

  
That was the moment when Jack teleported in out of nowhere and shot Wuya point blank in the chest with his laser gun when she turned to confront him.

I couldn’t have been more surprised to see him, especially when he came to me immediately after shooting the witch. He pulled out a small tool emitting a tightly focused laser and began cutting away the chains. It was what he _said_ that shocked me even more.

  
Jack: She was wrong. She was _so_ wrong. She... what she said, it wasn't true. That's why... _this_ has been so hard for me. Because you can treat me like dirt and cut me deeper than any weapon ever could and _still_ I... I would still love you.

Me: “Would?” Not “do?”

Jack: *sigh* I never stopped.

  
I was utterly relieved to hear that. I called him “xin ài” because he is, most definitely, my beloved. I started to speak to him only to realize that Wuya was _up_ and armed with a spear, and was charging at my lover from behind.

I tore free of the wall and met her head-on in combat.

It was… ferocious. Two dangerous, evil monsters such as we, it was a clash of titans. There were moments when I honestly thought I was going to lose, especially after she stabbed me in the leg.

Only the sheer knowledge of what she would do to Jack gave me the strength to reach past her guard, take hold of her head, and tear it away from her body.

Within moments, her ghost coalesced in the cave with us. Dashi arrived only seconds after that, caught her spirit, and hauled her away. Between one ghost and another, Jack ran to me, clinging to me as tight as he could. I was holding him just as eagerly, cuddling and kissing him.

Our emotions being what they were, relief and love and passion on high, it’s hardly to be wondered at that we were soon intent on making love with each other.

By the time Dashi showed up again, I had backed Jack against a wall; kissed him everywhere I could reach, and was on my knees between his spread legs with the intention of sucking him off then and there.

Dashi got a little testy about the fact that I was still _trying_ to get Jack’s erection bare for the sucking of while he was trying to explain what had happened.

Jack snarled at him to shut the hell up. The way his hips kept straining forward, it was obvious he _wanted_ sex as much as I did.

Dashi explained that while he’d been chewing Jack out for his selfish behavior, he’d sensed Wuya’s attack that had seen Diol injured (!!!!!!!!!) and me captured. Unfortunately for him, when he’d gone to the rescue, he’d blundered into an exorcism spell the witch had left behind. He had been unable to return until Wuya died, thus breaking the spell. He took her to the gates of the First Court of Hell, handed her off to a demon to deal with, and departed back to us.

He also warned us to expect an attack from Bean. Seems the vile creature had been using Wuya as a convenient sex toy. That is as far as I wish to speculate on the matter, lest I be driven to the alcohol vault to cleanse my mind.

I have far _better_ things to do right now.  >=]

Dashi urged us to get home and said he’d be by in a day to check up on us. Jack countered that with a _few_ days, and I countered that with a _week_.

I have far too much lost time to make up for.

We got home and, as eager as I was for Jack, the first thing I did was check on Diol. He was fine. Before coming to find me, Jack had seen to it that his Med-bot and some Heal-Me Juice had attended to my favorite warrior. I kissed Jack deeply just for that alone, which had him making the most revoltingly adorable squeaky noises of pleasure.

We went to Jack’s bedroom since mine was still torn up by Wuya’s attack (which I still do not remember). Despite the fact that I had a hole in my leg – now fixed with Heal-Me Juice – and horrendous bruises and scrapes, I was in no mood to wait any longer.

I’m quite certain there was kissing and caressing, but the only thing I honestly remember that first time was the unutterable bliss of sinking my hard cock into Jack’s body. The _noises_ he made as he clutched at me, working his hips in small little circles to take me in; _being_ in him, starting to thrust, and his groans changing to desperate cries of pleasure….

I screamed my own joy, unable to stop. I howled wordlessly as I made love to him, unable to stop, caught up in the riptide current of unbearable lust.

Everything is so blurry from that first joining. I remember that my mind suddenly cleared and I was aware that I was kissing him as I thrust in and out of him. In that moment, I needed it to be different, and I slowed the pace; kissed him with love and moved slow and gentle, and Jack cried as he curled around me, kissing me back.

We moved together in perfect harmony, in perfect synch. I thrust in, slow, deep, hard; pulled out, slid in again. His hips lifted to meet me, he tensed, he _begged_ , and we broke together, shuddering and groaning with relief as we came.

Not that we stopped there. I don’t think either of us softened that first time.

We made love for hours, in every conceivable position. He welcomed me into him, begged for me to make him come. Jack seemed ravenous as he kissed and caressed every inch of me. When his mouth wrapped around my cock and his tongue tortured me, I broke the headboard of the bed that my hands were clinging to as he brought me to climax that way, drinking it down. I returned the favor, and even licked him open so I could slide my erection back into him as he knelt with his ass raised for me to take him.

Most importantly, any time I was coherent enough to speak, I told him how much I love him. I told him that he is the only one for me, the only man I will ever want again.

Knowing myself as well as I do, there will be points in our life together when I will see a particularly attractive man and will fantasize fucking him. When Jack, bored with having known only me for so long, eyes another and feels guilty, I will help him through it. I have extensive knowledge, after all, in the difference between mere fucking and honest love.

That is why when I say Jack is the only man I will ever _want_ , I know I am speaking true. There will be other men I will think of (I promised Jack monogamy, after all, and will not touch), but I will only want Jack. I will only ever want him to be the one in my heart, in my bed, throughout the long years of eternity.

Beautiful, beloved, perfect Jack… how you please me. I can’t believe it took 1500 years to find the one person that so completes and compliments me, but I’m glad I was around to find him.

At some point, exhausted from heartbreak, abduction, battle, emotional relief, and sex, I passed out. I remember waking up just long enough to ingest some Heal-Me Juice, and then that was that.

I woke up not too long ago to find Jack snuggling with me. I asked another warrior to bring me my journal so I could get all this written down.

For now, I feel the need to sleep again. I want to be well-rested, because as soon as Jack is awake again, I will have him.

I think I’ll take him down to his lab and have him up against the cabinet I once fucked Katnappé against. Exorcising the ghosts of past lovers by making new lustful memories… capital idea. >=]


	343. Sunday, December 27, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 56  
Cupcakes: 0 ( _busy_ ) >=]

  
All is well in my world.

I have had copious, wonderful, splendiferous amounts of sex with Jack! Lots and lots and _lots_ of marvelous sex.

I can no longer feel my prick and every muscle I have is aching in ways they haven’t since I was mortal, but I _do not care!_ I got _LAID!_

It occurred to me that Jack had not really reacted to my declarations of love yesterday. I think his brain was far too muddled with “NEED. GIVE. YES, YES, YES!!!” to really process my words.

So, during one of our relaxation breaks to give us enough energy for another round, I told him again that I love him.

Not only that, I begged him to never, ever, _ever_ leave me.

Wuya was correct: I am pathetic. But, if being pathetic nets me Jack Spicer, then I am willing to suffer that particular existence.

Having a man like Jack Spicer as my Consort tends to take the sting out of being pathetic. >=]

Jack assured me that he would never leave me. He’d _tried_ to, after all, and look how well _that_ had worked. Between my tenacity and his own unfaltering adoration for me, he couldn’t _not_ come back to me.

That I had worked so hard to _get_ him back had helped tremendously, however.

So, I cuddled him to me, stroking as much of his sleek white skin as I could reach, and asked him to be immortal with me.

  
Jack: Yes! Yes, I would like that. And here I’d thought all that research was for… somebody else. Before our… whatever it was… I had hoped it had been for me, but afterwards….

Me: *kisses him* Only you. …..You mean you _knew?_ You knew about it _before_ now?

Jack: Accident! By accident, I swear!

Me: ….It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you have agreed to it, and I do not have to face the terror of an eternity without you.

  
Jack was apparently pleased by that remark, because he moved to straddle me at that point. He kissed my mouth and lowered himself down onto my penis, which had certainly showed renewed interest very quickly.

And then it was all rolling hips and languid thrusts and Jack whimpering my name as he rode to climax on my cock, followed very soon after by me.

During another break, however, Jack brought up Pedrosa. Specifically, he wanted to know if I’d ever thought of making that despicable brat immortal, too.

  
Me: Never. Gods, no. I hadn't even considered making _you_ immortal until I realized the fundamental truth of our situation, and that truth is that I fell in love with you. I have never loved anyone as I do you and I never will again. Of all the people I've known, Jack, you are the _only_ one who has ever been worth all of this.

Jack: If you had to choose between us, though?

Me: There never would have _been_ a choice. Pedrosa was cheap, crass, and useful only for one thing. You are graceful, beautiful, expensive and extravagant, and rightly so. You're useful in so many ways as to boggle the mind. You _win_ , no matter what. Besides, I _have_ chosen. I've chosen to make _you_ immortal, and I tortured and killed him at your command. Doesn't that speak well enough of my choice?

  
At which point, Jack proved his absolute joy in my words yet again in an ultimately satisfying manner. >=]

I may end up a dehydrated mummy by the time we finally decide we’ve had our fill of each other.


	344. Monday, December 28, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 56  
Cupcakes: 14 (would have been more, but...pie!)

  
I was treated to a non-sex treat this morning.

I woke up alone, decided I was hungry and thirsty enough to not immediately search out Jack (and a trifle sore, too), and went to the dining table. With my emergence from the bedroom – and Jack’s, come to think of it – at least one of my warriors should have prepared and served breakfast.

Instead, I arrived at a barren table.

I immediately inquired about breakfast, but Jack arrived and told me I did not need breakfast. I was suspicious and curious, but he then told me what I needed was _pie_ and proceeded to serve me the most artery-clogging, mind-bogglingly delicious apple pie I have ever had.

It’s an Italian version of an apple pie, apparently. Lots of butter and sugar, eggs, finely ground almonds, apples… it was a sensory overload of butter and sweetness.

I have a vague memory of naming Jack my god and then, we were on the floor, sucking each other off.

It was _that good_.

A little bit later, I used the leftover mix from the mixing bowl to smear it on certain parts of him and lick it off. _That_ was the best part of it. The pie was delicious, certainly, but nothing compares to the flavor of butter and sugar and _Jack_.

When we weren’t having sex – more of these moments today because of how sore we are – we talked about eternity and what he could expect from it. I wanted to warn him immediately that he’ll likely become bored of having sex with _only_ me, but I was afraid that would either scare him off or make him worry that I am already plotting to have sex with other people. I won’t (I _promised_ him I won’t), but Jack has proven remarkably insecure where I and my prick are concerned.

So, I warned him instead that he is likely to become bored on occasion and start coming up with lists of things he would like to do, but to space it out. His mortal mind cannot fathom being bored, but it’ll get there.

In other news, Bailey and Tohomiko are not interested in seeking revenge on us for what we did to Pedrosa. They are looking at it as a sad thing, but one that had to happen because he could not leave well enough alone. I always knew they were the smarter of the three world-wise Dragons.

Omi, on the other hand, is _still_ not speaking to me. I shall let him get away with his snippy attitude only so long, and then I shall take him to task in the sparring ring.

In yet _more_ news, the nations of the world have finalized their truly massive fleet of spaceships. More than one-hundred of them currently ring the globe and humans are being rounded up to board and flee into space to colonize elsewhere. China is rapidly emptying itself as people who had been fast running out of room now leap for the chance to find and settle a planet all to themselves with room to spread out. Many people all over the world are taking this same strategy: _There is nothing left for us here. Let us flee into space where all have the same chance of survival._

Of course, some people are staying; simply unwilling to leave their homeworld or unable to, but of a world population of 6 billion people, roughly 100,000 million are all that are remaining. Personally, I am breathing a sigh of relief. Even with that many people left, Earth may begin to repair itself. Jack, I’m certain, will build something to help that along.

Things are definitely looking up.

If only I didn’t have a niggling feeling that it’s all an illusion, set to come crashing down around me.


	345. Tuesday, December 29, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 56  
Cupcakes: 2

  
I really must remember that I possess “Tiger Instincts” at _some_ point.

That “niggling feeling” I was experiencing…?

Oh, yes.

Jack is still _with_ me, but he decided to learn his lesson from The Unpleasantness. He came to _talk_ with me about his doubts. It seems that he is very much afraid that despite all of my current fervent declarations of devotion, sooner or later, I will stray… or, come to my senses and realize I never truly _loved_ him.

My own fears are that I am not currently awake, but that I am under an illusion spell or simply unconscious, and that when I wake, all of the bliss of the past few days will vanish as if it never were.

I confessed those fears to Jack with the added information that if such is the case, I will most likely kill myself because I am _not_ strong enough to survive such a heart break. I really am not.

However, Jack spurred me into thinking about _how_ we can allay our fears. In agreement that everything feels far too perfect at the moment, so perfect that it can hardly be real, we turned our minds to how to _make_ it real.

Specifically, I recalled the many properties of the Heart of Jong.

Besides forming the foundation stone of the entity known as Mala Mala Jong, the Heart of Jong is an emotion-based Shen-Gong-Wu. It has the ability to allow one person to know the true feelings of another person.

It can also allow two people to experience each other’s emotions.

There is no possible way the emotion can be faked or substituted. Even if Wuya had been trying to trick my unconscious mind with the Heart of Jong, I would have felt _her_ and she would have been discovered.

My bedroom having been repaired, we had transferred from his room to mine. I retrieved the Heart of Jong and brought it to him. I explained what it can do and that I was willing to bare myself entirely to him to reassure him of my love for him and, if he was too frightened, he need not reciprocate the action.

I was speechless with relief that he chose to reciprocate. It allowed me to prove to myself that I am wide awake, everything is real…

…And Jack loves me.

Oh, gods, how he loves me.

Never before has there been anything like this for me. As monstrous and heinous as I am, I can scarcely believe all of _that_ is for _me_.

I am not foolish enough to turn my back on his adoration. >=]

Jack’s own fears are assuaged. He now knows precisely how much I feel for him, and _how_ I feel for him.

We let the Heart of Jong fall away from us. The connection to each other’s hearts was broken, but we had no need of it. We reached for each other and began making love.

It was slow, tender… _glorious_.

I couldn’t get enough of his kisses, of his voice catching as he said my name. I remember, towards the end, pressing my face to his neck to muffle the sobs I could not control as I climaxed inside him.

The intensity of love and desire I felt for him terrified me. I very nearly ran from him, panicked at the thought of being _that_ vulnerable to another.

The only thing that stopped me was the greater fear of losing Jack forever.

When it was over, when we could stop trembling and gasping, we moved to a dry spot and clung to each other, relishing our closeness.

We fell asleep at some point. When I woke up, it was to find Jack holding the Heart of Jong and leering at me. Apparently, he had the “brilliant” idea that if what we felt for each other pre-lovemaking had been so amazing, then what would it be like if we shared the Heart of Jong _while_ making love?

I quickly disabused him of that notion. I told him we would become addicted to using the Heart of Jong as a sex aid, and so regular sex with each other would become stilted and boring.

He quickly tossed it across the room. Thankfully, it landed in a pile of clothing.

We then set about proving to each other that we need only ourselves in bed… and the occasional bona fide sex toy. >=]


	346. Wednesday, December 30, 4707

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors, Cat-formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu: 56  
Cupcakes: 16 (in preparation)

  
I have never in my life been more terrified than when I made love with Jack earlier.

I let him have me in my monster form.

Or, rather, I had him… but I allowed him to have what he’s wanted for a very long time.

I decided that he had earned it. He had given me immense trust and the privilege of making him immortal. It was an intense affair, in which I had him quaff part of my usual potion – minus the dragon but with a dragon-pearl dissolved into it. An amalgamation of spells crafted into one were chanted together and…

Well. Jack is now sharing my immortality while I am sharing his soul with him. This is important in that, should I be killed, I will not immediately vanish into oblivion. Jack will revert to mortality and I… ha! That is the surprise that ends them all.

It seems that Bean had indeed tried to use my forfeited soul in a ritual to bring back a race of dark elder gods that would have catastrophically altered the world, leaving me as the representative of a mere pittance in an arsenal of Heylin power in comparison to the dark gods he’d attempted to call forth.

Dashi had kept an eye on him and my soul, and so he’d alerted the gods _he_ works for – the polar opposite of the dark gods Bean was calling upon.

I had been aware of a celestial struggle, but beyond that, nothing had happened and so I let it go without further investigation.

Dashi’s gods won, and so they gave him a reward for alerting them to the situation in the first place.

He asked for my soul.

He has been keeping it in his possession all this time, keeping it safe for me should I lose my mind and request to be mortal again.

Jack demanded Dashi give it back to me immediately, but Dashi pointed out that if he gave it back to me without my permission, I would be forcibly reverted to a 1,500-year-old mortal man.

My beloved _is_ a genius. He interpreted what Dashi was hinting at: that I would age, wither, and become dust before their very eyes in a instant.

I’m certain I felt a rib or two crack with the strength with which Jack clung to me as he rejected the return of my soul.

However, given that Dashi _does_ have it, in the event that I am killed, because I am sharing Jack’s soul, I will not vanish immediately. I will be tied to the mortal plane long enough to accept back my own soul.

Jack and I would become mortal men (and with my willing acceptance of my soul, I would not turn to dust), but we would still be alive and together – at least until mortal death took us.

The immortality spell took a lot out of us, but especially out of Jack. He passed out in my arms and so I put us to bed.

Much, _much_ later, he woke up and took notice of the fact that my bedroom looked strange. I let him know that I had used a spell to merge his room and mine together; pieces of his possessions were strewn and mixed with mine.

Of course, I did this spell last night, and he only just _now_ noticed, but he’s been nerved up and so I shall be gallant enough to not mention it to him.

And then, I made the offer of letting him have sex with my monster form.

I believe he’d have kissed me breathless if I had not been transformed by that point.

He lay on his back, leaving his belly and throat bare to me. He let me sniff him all over, let me lick him. I think he _liked_ what I can do with my tongue, as long as it is.

It’s still so strange to me that he finds my monster form beautiful, let alone arousing.

Jack was quickly rampant under my ministrations, but there was no possible way I could slick him with lube. My claws can carve a man like a roast turkey with the merest wave of my arm. I shudder to think what I could have done to his insides had I tried to slick him open.

So, he did it for me, and even put on a show. He allowed me to see his fingers pushing in and out of his opening, stretching, twisting, all while murmuring to me how this was being done for me. Jack kept up a litany of information, declaring that he was doing this because I deserved it; because I, as a Heylin Lord, a demon prince among dragons, was _owed_ such carnal subservience.

Far be it from _me_ to argue.

While it would have been far more comfortable for him to be on his hands and knees, allowing my spine to curve naturally over him, Jack returned to his back once he felt he was ready. He bared his throat to me again, his intelligence allowing him to know that my bestial lizard brain demanded his submission to me. He spread his thighs, his hips propped up by pillows, and begged me to take him.

By that point, I could not have _stopped_. I had scented his arousal, smelled his urgency, and it had triggered the need to fuck in my reptilian mind.

I settled between his thighs, gripped the headboard rather than any part of him, and pushed _in_ even as my tail curled around one white thigh. I thrust in, claiming him, and though I wanted to roar and thrash, I dared not even open my mouth for fear I’d lay a crushing bite of possessiveness on him.

I took my time, moving carefully inside him. I was afraid of being too rough with him, of turning his adoring fantasy into a nightmare reality. He felt _so good_ , though. I wanted to _rut_ ; I wanted to pound and _thrust_ and _take_.

Instead, I thrust in and out of him with gentle movement that he, apparently, had no problem with. He kept his throat bared, kept his hands down, and moved his hips in greedy motion as he made the same joyous cries of pleasure as he always does. He had his eyes open, looking up at me without hesitation. He demanded more, harder, but I refused – too frightened of seriously damaging him.

Considering how well it went between us, though, I think I could slip my control enough to give him the harder and deeper he wants without causing him injury. I could almost wish that the spell had given him a sturdy monster form, too, but I much prefer him as he is: white-skinned, ruby-eyed, and human-shaped.

So, I made love to my Consort. I thrust in, fucked him, and he did not die. In fact, he was moving with greed and vibrancy beneath me, calling my name, saying he loved me – before he lost his grip on the ability to speak. Then, as orgasm came closer for both of us, he began making the most obscene noises of delight and pleasure. I responded by moving a little faster, needing him, _needing_ to fuck, to come!

I came hard inside him, unable to hold back a howling scream that reverberated off the rock walls.

I _did not_ bite him. My grotesque fangs never went anywhere near him as I strained to get deeper inside him. Beneath me, he was taut and shaking in the grip of his own climax.

When it was over, I collapsed down on him. He made a startled noise, probably at how heavy I am. Jack never demanded I move, though. In fact, I watched him as he kissed my snout, his red eyes looking at me with such love that my heart tightened with pain at the abrupt surge of possessive adoration I felt.

I returned to human form soon after. I _wanted_ him; wanted more and more and _more_ of him, and did not want to hold back.

The screams of pleasure; the shrieking cries of “Oh! Yes! _YES!_ Fuck, yeah! Fuck, yeah, Chase, _Chase!_ Like that, like that, like _that FUCK ME YES OHHHHHH!_ ” as I fucked him from behind were proof enough that I certainly did _not_ hold back.  >=3

…..Ahhh. Look who is awake? My beloved’s Consort Sense is working again, it seems. Did you know in your sleep that I was achingly hard, remembering our earlier lovemaking? He simply smirks at me and OH, yes, Jack, do _THAT_ with your tongue….

Ah. Must leave off for now. My Jack wants us to make use of my throne for a game of “King and Captive.”

He has just hooked his leash to the hematite necklace he has, of yet, not removed ever since he put it on.

I am the _luckiest_ monster on the planet!  >=]


	347. Thursday-Friday, December 31-January 1, 4707-4708 (2009-2010, Western Calendar)

Years Lived: 1,575  
Warriors Defeated in Battle: Somewhere near the 2-million-and-four mark  
Warriors, Cat-Formed: 140  
Shen-Gong-Wu Accumulated: Just enough. >=]  
Monks Annoyed: Yes, but that’s what I do best!  
Cupcakes Consumed: I’ll get around to it later.  
Dragons Available for Making Lao-Mang-Lone: Still 3 (but with potential for more!)

It is nearly the end of the Year of the Ox, _Ji Chou_. Within a few months, it will be the Year of the White Tiger, _Bái lǎohǔ_. I have chosen the White Tiger for several reasons.

This coming new year will be the year of a male Metal tiger. Jack, should he take feline form, would be a white tiger. His element is Metal. Because Metal is connected to gold and is the equivalent of white in the Five-Element System, and because he is all over white, I have chosen to call this _Bái lǎohǔ_.

Whatever mortals remain on this planet will label the year 2010. I will label it 4708.

And I will do so with Jack beside me.

Currently, however, I am surrounded by “family.”

Jack and I are seated on a couch. In his hair is Finnian, with Negriss lurking around somewhere. All of us are studiously avoiding looking too long or too closely at their offspring that sits perched in front of the TV, watching the worldwide celebrations of the Western New Year beginning.

By “all of us,” I mean Stone, Foley, and Dashi are here as well. After relentless nagging from Dashi, I extended the invitation to Guan and Dojo as well, but they essentially said “No, thank you, we’ll catch Evil cooties from you if we stay too long.”

Note to Self: Try to corrupt Guan and/or Dojo to the Heylin side during the next year.

At any rate, Stone is seated beside his little brother while Dashi is floating somewhere beside/behind/around _his_ little brother, i.e. me.

Foley, who had _not_ been told that Jack is, in fact, alive, had a minor freak-out when he showed up with Stone. After being reassured that Jack is neither a ghost nor a zombie – not helped at all by Dashi’s see-through irritating self flitting up for introductions – he seems to have calmed down. It turns out that Stone had chosen not to tell his lover about Jack’s liveliness and then-predicament of being held captive in my palace. Foley, being a superhero, would have felt compelled to “rescue” Jack from my clutches. I would have killed him. Stone would then have committed suicide by trying to kill _me_ in retaliation. Ergo, he kept his fat mouth shut.

We are all gathered together to celebrate the end of one year and the beginning of another, insofar as the Westerners are concerned. Jack is cuddled up against my side as he writes in his own journal, my arm wrapped around him. That is about the only decent part of this farce that I care for. I want us to be alone so that I can be doing salaciously indecent things to him.

We’re having this party because Stone tried to contact his brother during the winter season holiday known as Christmas for the possible exchanging of gifts/having a party/whatever have you. Naturally, Jack and I were busy battling for our lives against Wuya and so Spicer was unable to respond to the cellphone. By the time Stone decided to come to the mountain in person to check up on his brother, Jack and I were busy having our own celebratory occasion(s).

Dashi informs me that he feels sympathy with the young flame-throwing mutant. Both of them are older brothers of a pair of randy rascal little brothers who were “celebrating” with such vivacity that it was audible throughout the entirety of the mountain. He shooed Stone back to his home in Hong Kong when the young man turned a strange color of pale green.

Considering the slut their father is, it’s astonishing how very squeamish the Spicer siblings are about sex.

And so here we are: counting down the minutes until the “new year” is rung in with plenty of booze and food and camaraderie. Most of us are excited about it because the space fleet is ready to launch. The planet-leavers have decided to begin their exploration and colonization of the universe with the arrival of a new year. I wish them much good luck on that score, because if they come back here and trash the planet up again, I’m going to murder them all.

Only 30 minutes to go and then Earth will be free again!

Jack has already announced that he will begin work on a pollution-cleaning design. Of course, it will have to be “behind the scenes” because he’s supposedly dead. I think he’ll be able to come out of being “dead” in a few months, once it’s assured that the colonies are _not_ coming back. Jack can easily resume being a beloved brainchild of the world to whomever is left and get away with it by saying that if he hadn’t “died,” then humanity wouldn’t have gotten off their butts and moved on to reach new heights on their own, etc., etc.

All I care about is that the Earth will be clean again. Dragons might actually come back! That would certainly make _me_ happy, for obvious reasons.

Dashi has decided to stick around. Now that he’s “saved our love life” – or so he thinks – he’s decided it’s way too much fun to poke me (and occasionally Jack) with a proverbial stick. Yay. Just what I’ve always wanted.

Didn’t I murder him just so I could get _away_ from idiocy like this?

Ah! Never mind my irritating goat-traumatizing brother! The countdown has begun! As I understand it, a kiss with a loved one is traditional as soon as the countdown has finished. >=]

  
**Edited to Add:**

  
Stone, Foley, and Dashi have gone out for drinks somewhere. The sound of Jack and I “ringing in the new year” was too much for them to handle.

Serves them right for imposing on my honeymoon!

Ahhhh… 4708 is going to be a _magnificent_ year; I just know it!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [As the Shen-Gong-Wu Turns](https://archiveofourown.org/works/261707) by [Silvarbelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silvarbelle/pseuds/Silvarbelle)




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